Dasvidaniya
by IsmayDeVain
Summary: Neal can get out of any situation Peter puts him in, but a new case may change that. Undercover in a notorious Russian outfit, the unthinkable happens in front of Peter's eyes. There's no way Neal is coming back from this.
1. Chapter 1

**Dasvidaniya**

**A/N: This is a story that wouldn't leave me alone. The usual disclaimer applies. It's told from an original character's point of view (I promise she isn't a Mary Sue) because I thought it would be fun to right from an outsider's view on Peter and Neal's relationship, especially after the whole Keller fiasco.**

**Enjoy!**

She used to be beautiful.

Once, her skin was like rose petals, soft and flawless, like velvet beneath the fingers. Now it's scarred and worn.

Her smile used to light the room. It used to reach her eyes and make them sparkle. It used to be brilliant. Now her breath smells like cigarettes and her teeth are tinted from the nicotine. Her smile is full of ache and sadness and it never reaches her eyes. She doesn't smile much any more any way.

And her eyes. The innocence and light that used to be there died a long time ago. Like the embers of a fire, it slowly fizzled out, fading slowly until nothing was left but ash. When she looks in the mirror, she can never look in her eyes.

She used to be beautiful, but not anymore. Now, she is just feared.

"Inna, please show our guests in, _dorogaya moya_?"

She looked at her employer and inhaled on her cigarette, "_Da_."

She didn't bother trying to act sultry. Katarina, her employer's secretary, and she used the term lightly, took care of all the sex appeal in the office. It was enough to make Inna want to throw up.

She opened the door and stepped into the lobby. Luka was standing against the wall, his arm muscles bulging through his sports coat. Luka was just for show; Inna doubted that he could even throw a punch. His muscles were impressive, but they made him slow and all of the steroids had killed most of his brain cells. She gave him a minute nod and Luka straightened, gesturing to the two men across the lobby.

Inna watched them as they moved. The younger of the two, and the handsomest in her opinion, led the way, but the there was something off in the way the older man followed him. It was as if he were used to leading the way and he had to force himself to stay one step behind. They were comfortable with each other, but still on edge.

She let them pass and watched as they approached Dimitri's desk. The younger one was confident, almost cocky. The older one was weary, but tried not to let it show. She doubted anyone else had taken notice of her observations. Luka was too stupid and Dimitri was too busy looking down Katarina's blouse.

"Dimitri," she said as she took her place against the window behind her employer, "your guests have arrived."

Reluctantly, Dimitri turned his attention to the two men occupying his office. He leaned back, the chair squealing in protest, and folded his hands over his expanding belly. Running his tongue over his teeth, he grinned. Inna rolled her eyes. Dimitri still fancied himself as the young man he used to be, the one that women flocked to, the one with a full head of hair and a trim waist. Now all he had going for him was his money and power.

"Mr. Halden," Dimitri said, "I trust you have come to honor our agreement."

The younger man nodded, "Of course. Dimitri, I'd like to introduce you to Rick Collis. I believe you and he share similar business interests."

"I will be the judge of that. Tell me, Mr. Collis, are you as good at shipping…delicate merchandise as Mr. Halden tells me."

Collis gave a small smirk, "I tend not to take what Mr. Halden says too seriously."

"So you're no good?"

"Oh, no I'm good. I just mean to say, Mr. Halden tends to exaggerate my expertise."

Inna smirked. Her eyes weren't as bright as they used to be, but they saw everything and they didn't miss the way Halden pinched Collis' leg.

"Well, then, perhaps I will use your services," Dimitri sat up, "Provided you pass my inspection. Inna?"

She handed him the file sitting on the window sill. He thumbed through it, but she doubted that he actually read anything she'd drawn up. She was very thorough with her research, but more importantly, Dimitri trusted her opinion. He never questioned her decision when it came to business associates.

"_Inna, eta kharasho?"_

Inna kept her eyes trained on Halden. She wondered if he knew that her answer, no matter what she said, would end his life. He seemed so confident. How could he be so naïve?"

"_Da."_

"Good," Dimitri said. He stood and buttoned the bottom button of his suit. The others would stay and even that one button strained against his stomach. He rounded his desk and shook hands with Collis.

"I look forward to working with you," Dimitri said, leading Collis towards the door. Katarina hopped off the desk and sashayed to Dimitri's other arm, giving Halden a seductive look the entire time.

"Same here," Collis answered.

Dimitri looked at Halden, "Mr. Halden, it has been a pleasure working with you. You fulfilled all of my estimations."

Halden smiled, bright and brilliant, "Perhaps we will be working together again soon."

Dimitri chuckled, "_Nyet_. Unfortunately, Mr. Halden, I am a business man first and foremost. And part of being a good business man is never leaving lose ends. Inna."

She already had her gun out. She didn't wait for Halden to finish turning his head before she fired, twice. The first bullet hit him center mass followed a fraction of a second later by the second, directly above the heart. Halden stumbled backward, hitting his head on the desk. Inna doubted that he even felt it.

Dimitri wiped his mouth, growing pale, "I do hate the sight of blood."

Inna knelt next to Halden and pressed her fingers to his neck. Red was seeping across his white shirt front. She tossed the dark towel from the bar across him, hoping to alleviate her employer's distress.

But it was Collis' distress that interested her.

He'd gone as white as a sheet and he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Collis' body. He was still, but his eyes told volumes. Inna did her best not to look at them.

"Not used to the messier side of business, are you?" Dimitri said, laughing heartily and slapping Collis on the back, "Do not worry. It becomes easier with time and if you do well for me, I promise you will not meet the same fate."

Collis only blinked and stared. Dimitri leaned close to his ear, "Of course, if you do not fulfill your part of the bargain, you will meet a much worse fate. Inna is very talented. Especially with a knife."

Collis raised his eyes to hers and she saw sparks of anger and pain reflected in the brown orbs. They swore vengeance. She met his stare and sent her own challenge back.

"Come," Dimitri said, "I will walk you out. What car do you drive?"

Collis looked at Dimitri and pointed to the body, "He was my ride."

Dimitri gave a hearty laugh and squeezed his shoulder, pulling him from the room. Katarina gave a slight pout towards Halden's chilling body and followed. Inna sighed, leaning against the desk and unwrapping a butterscotch candy from her pocket.

"Luka, send up Pyotr and Vladik."

Luka nodded, "Do you want this one?"

Inna nodded, "Put it in my trunk."

Luka nodded. As stupid as he was, she appreciated his lack of interest. He never asked what she did with the bodies she claimed and she was grateful. She hated asking questions.

She tossed the wrapper into the trash and popped the candy into her mouth before following Luka out of the office and leaving the body of Nick Halden behind.

**A/N: The Russian may be wrong and I'm sorry if it is. If the Internet is correct, the Russian phrases mean:**

"**my darling"**

"**yes"**

"**is it good"**

"**no"**

**Again, sorry for any mistakes. Please stick with it! And be sure to hit that review button!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Some what of a filler chapter, but it's important and Elizabeth does appear in it. And because I don't know Russian, the conversations in bold is when the characters are speaking Russian. The italicized words are actual Russian words. Confusing, yes, but deal with it. ****J**

Inna turned the Cadillac DeVille into the alley and parked behind the condemned building. She flashed her lights twice before killing the engine and popped the trunk as she stepped out of the car. Just as she lifted the trunk lid, Mikhail came out of the building.

"New one?" he asked. His accent was heavier than hers, almost to thick to understand. It sounded like he was talking around a mouthful of cotton.

Inna nodded, "Take him inside. Have Lanka help you with him."

Mikhail nodded, grunting as he hefted Halden's body over his shoulder. She followed him into the building, lighting a cigarette as she went. Mikhail took the stairs up; Inna took them down. The building was three levels of apartments and a basement that was once used for tenants' storage. But the building had been gutted and now the levels were bare but for a few structure holding walls.

The basement had been claimed by Serge. He'd needed the room to work with his enormous amount of computer equipment and to build there weapons. The vast room was dark but for the soft glow of the numerous computer screens. Inna flipped on the light.

"**The light hurts my eyes,"** Serge complained without looking away from his computer.

"**The dark hurts your eyes,"** Inna countered, **"because you do not use the light. What are you working on?"**

"**Tracking data. I'm nearly finished."**

"**Good. I have some things for you to do."**

Inna pulled out her gun and ejected the magazine. Serge grunted.

"**Another one so soon? We only just got rid of the last."**

"**It was necessary. I used both bloodlets."**

"**I can see that. And the ring?"**

Inna took the topaz ring off her middle finger on her right hand. She handed it to him as he dug in the drawer of his desk. He tossed her a different ring. She frowned at the owl signet staring back at her.

"**An owl?"**

Serge shrugged, turning back to his computer, **"I think it is fitting. The owl is a great huntress."**

Inna smacked the back of his head and left him chuckling in the dim basement. She rode the lift to the second floor where Mikhail would have taken Halden. When the doors opened, she was met by Sofia. The little girl stared up at her with wide blue eyes behind locks of blond hair.

"Is he dead?"

Sofia had the best American accent of them all. She'd spent five of her nine years in America, listening to their music and television. Not only the most eloquent, she was also perceptive. A trait Inna wished she'd never acquired.

"What are you doing on this floor?" Inna asked.

"I saw you pull up," Sofia answered, "and you didn't answer my question."

Inna rolled her eyes. She didn't much care for the American attitude either.

"Go to your room. I will call you in a minute."

Sofia crossed her arms, "If you're going to call me in a minute, why do I need to go anywhere?"

Inna glared at her and Sofia grumbled, but obeyed. Relieved of one pain in the butt, she crossed the room to deal with her second. Mikhail was leaning against the wall separating the main room from what they'd begun to call the infirmary. He was smoking rolling a cigarette, a habit he'd picked up in the work camps decades ago.

"You are getting careless," he said.

She stopped, waiting for him to continue.

"Too many in too little time," he shook his head, "Will rouse suspicions."

"_Nyet._ No one suspects anything."

He grabbed her arm as she tried to pass. She forced herself not to react. Mikhail was a strong man, tall and well built. He had ten years on her, but he was still as active as he was at twenty. Her instinct was to tear away from him, incapacitate him before he overpowered her. Of course, looking into his steel blue eyes, that wasn't her only instinct.

"We are close, Inna," he said softly, "Do not ruin it."

She pulled away and went into the room. Lanka, their pseudo-nurse and weapons specialist, was washing her hands. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun, revealing the burns on her face. She flicked her dark eyes up to Inna.

"**His head is hurt," **Lanka said, the accusation hanging on her every word.

"**He fell."**

Inna treaded softly with Lanka. She was a quiet girl, but she had the temper of a dormant volcano.

"**His injuries are not severe."**

"**When will the sedative wear off?"**

"**Less than an hour."**

Inna nodded and breezed out of the room.

"Mikhail, come with me," she called over her shoulder.

Mikhail followed her into the lift, taking a long drag off of his cigarette, "Where are we going?"

"To pick up Mr. Halden's friend."

Smirking, Mikhail placed the cigarette behind his ear, pulled out his gun, and checked to see that it was loaded.

The lift doors slid shut.

Mikhail dropped her off in front of the house. He gave her a small nod, knowing his orders, and drove away. Inna walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. The door opened, revealing a beautiful dark haired, blue eyed woman. Her eyes were red rimmed and it was obvious that she'd been crying.

Inna didn't have to guess what about.

"Can I help you?"

Inna didn't return the smile, "Mrs. Burke?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Inna Dragomirov."

Elizabeth Burke frowned, "I'm sorry. Should I know you?"

"_Nyet_. But your husband does. I met him earlier today. I also met his friend, a Mr. Halden."

Her eyes widened and she tried to slam the door shut, but Inna was one step ahead of her. Inna grabbed the door and shoved it backward. Elizabeth stumbled backward and would have fallen, but Inna caught her wrist and flung her onto the couch, shutting the door behind her. The dog came running into the room, barking up a storm, teeth bared. As the dog lunged at her, Inna grabbed the collar and pressed her right hand to its neck. Slowly, the dog fell to the floor and laid on its side. Like he were sleeping.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth demanded, "What did you do to my dog?"

"Relax," Inna said, giving the dog an extra pat, "He is only sleeping,"

She stood and sat on the edge of the coffee table, pulling the gun from her waistband. Elizabeth straightened and did her best to hide her fear, but Inna could read it in her eyes.

"And I have already told you who I am," Inna said, "but allow me to clarify," She leaned forward, "I am the woman that killed Nick Halden."

Tears sprang to Elizabeth's eyes and she swung out intending to slap Inna, but the Russian woman caught her easily and tossed her back to the couch. Elizabeth glared at her angrily.

"You bitch."

Inna smirked, "Such language."

She put the gun on her knee and leaned forward, lowering her voice.

"You have no idea what I am capable of."

**A/N: Next Chapter: We find out what's going on with Neal. Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! I hope the story meets all of your expectations.**

They moved to the kitchen where Inna made tea and then sat at the table. To anyone on the outside looking in, they were two old friends, chatting and sipping hot tea. Unless they saw the gun resting on the table in front of Inna.

"What do you want?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Inna sipped her tea. It needed honey, she decided and reached across the table to grab the jar.

"Your husband and I have some unfinished business," Inna said as she poured a generous amount of honey into her cup, "You are unfortunately a means to attain his attention."

"I don't understand."

Inna tasted her tea. Much better.

"It is true that I could corner your husband. Perhaps in his car after leaving the office or as he pulls into your driveway, but he would be more inclined to attack me given earlier circumstances."

"You mean when you shot…" Elizabeth swallowed hard, fresh tears gathering in her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to say his name, not in the same sentence.

Inna smirked, "_Da._ Anger and revenge are like blinders. They do not allow you to see the whole truth even if it stares you in the face. But if I have you by my side, he will be less likely to act recklessly and more likely to listen."

"How can you be so heartless?" Elizabeth asked, "What kind of sick person gets off of other people's pain?"

Inna leaned forward, eyes narrowed and sharp. Her voice was low and dangerous as she spoke.

"Do not pretend to understand me, Mrs. Burke. You are perceptive, I will give you that, but in this case, you have a limited perspective. Making assumptions could cost you your life."

"I thought you needed me."

Inna leaned back and smirked, "No one is indispensable."

The front door opened and Peter stepped inside. Elizabeth moved to stand, but Inna waved the gun at her as a warning. Peter saw Satchmo first, a crease of worry spreading across his brow. Then he saw Elizabeth sitting at the table, angry and terrified, across from the woman he hated most in the world.

Anger sparked in his eyes as he surged across the room.

"You! What are you-"

Inna raised the gun, "Easy, Agent Burke. Think before you act."

Peter stopped, surprised.

"_Da_, I know who you are. Mikhail, remove him of his firearm, please."

Mikhail stepped into the house, softly shutting the door behind him. He crossed the room and pulled the gun from Peter's holster, then stepped back, keeping it at the ready.

"My associate has been following you since you left your office."

Peter glared at her, "What are you doing here?"

"I am getting to know your beautiful wife," Inna said, "Such fire in this one."

Inna sipped the last of her tea, taking her time. It wasn't often she got to enjoy a good cup of tea.

"What do you want?" Peter asked, the anger in his voice growing, "Is your bloodlust not satisfied?"

Mikhail shoved his shoulder, "Watch your mouth."

"Easy, Mikhail," Inna admonished. She looked at Peter, "I was doing my job, Agent Burke. You are lucky I did not tell Dimitri who you really are, or it would not be just your friend that was shot."

Peter ground his teeth, "Why didn't you tell him?"

"All in good time, Agent. First, you and your wife are going to take a ride with Mikhail and me. When we reach our destination, I will explain it all."

"We aren't going anywhere with you."

Mikhail cocked the gun. Inna rose, keeping her own gun in full view at her hip.

"I think you misunderstand me, Agent Burke," she said, "It isn't a request."

Mikhail drove the Cadillac to the building with Peter sitting beside him. Inna sat in the back with Elizabeth, the gun still resting on her knee. Serge was waiting for them on the stairs when they walked inside.

"**Speak only Russian,"** Inna said.

"**I thought we were going to bring them in,"** Serge said.

"**Yes, but for now do as I say,"** she answered, then smacked the back of his head, **"Do not question my orders."**

Mikhail chuckled as Serge rubbed the back of his head. Peter pulled Elizabeth close, looking between their kidnappers, obviously confused by the less than threatening atmosphere.

"**Where are they?"** Inna asked as they headed for the lift.

"**On the third floor,"** Serge answered, shutting the doors and pressing the button.

"**Is he awake?"**

Serge nodded, **"Sofia has taken a liking to him."**

Inna rolled her eyes. Of course she had. The child would do anything to annoy her.

The third level had been converted to their rooms, each of them claiming a corner and putting up curtains to gain some sort of privacy. The middle had been devoted to a type of living room. Sofia was sitting on one of the couches, watching cartoons.

"**What are you doing out here?"** Inna asked.

Sofia flipped the channel, **"Lanka kicked me out. She said he was a prisoner, not a play toy."**

Inna beckoned her off the couch and turned off the T.V., gesturing for Mikhail to sit Peter and Elizabeth where Sofia had been. Inna took her normal seat in the recliner and lit a cigarette. She'd only just taken her first drag when Sofia crawled into her lap. She glared at the girl.

"**Shouldn't you be asleep?"**

Sofia didn't answer, but started twirling her long blond hair around her finger and tying knots in it. Inna sighed. It was a nervous habit the child only did when she was having nightmares and didn't want to say anything.

"**Serge, help Lanka bring our guest out here."**

Serge nodded and headed for the back of the level. With Mikhail standing guard, Inna finally put her weapon down and began rocking the recliner.

"Agent Burke, welcome to our humble abode," she said.

Peter glared, "Are you going to explain what's going on now?"

"Possibly. I'm sure you have quite a few questions."

Peter scoffed, "You think? For starters, how do you know who I am? And why didn't you tell Dimitri today? And why did you-"

He stopped looking at Sofia. Inna smirked and chuckled.

"Believe me, Agent, nothing you say can surprise this child. Tell me, were you going to ask why I killed your friend?"

Peter clenched his fists, anger swelling in his chest, "You didn't have to do that."

"I did. If I did not, then Luka would have, and he would not have been so kind as me."

"Kind!" Peter roared, surging to his feet, "You put two bullets in his chest! How the hell is that kind?"

Mikhail stepped forward, "Sit. Now."

Slowly, Peter obeyed, still seething. Inna just kept rocking.

"There it is," she said softly, "There is the reaction I did not see this afternoon. For a moment, I thought I had read you wrong, Agent Burke."

Peter said nothing.

"Your anger is healthy. Your desire for revenge even more so, but I believe you will be, how do you say, singing a different tune in a moment. You see, Nick Halden is dead."

Before Peter or Elizabeth could react, Lanka and Serge appeared from around a curtain. Lanka held the curtain back as Serge, propping up their guest, stumbled into the room. Peter stared, open mouthed and wide eyed, while his wife gasped, fresh tears filling her eyes. Inna came very close to smiling.

"But Neal Caffrey is very much alive."

**A/N: Next chapter begins to explain how Inna "killed" Neal and what this pack of Russians is up to. Review please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow, has it been a long time. I was reading through some of my old stuff and discovered I hadn't finished this story. Well, now I'm going to remedy that deplorable situation. Enjoy!**

**Normal disclaimer applies.**

It was Elizabeth that moved first. Inna had expected as much and waved Mikhail away when he stepped forward as the woman moved. Tears were streaming down Elizabeth's face as she grabbed Neal by the shoulders and smothered him. Neal winced, but didn't pull away. He sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder and closed his eyes. Mikhail watched them with eagle eyes, but Inna wasn't watching them.

She was watching Peter.

Thinking no one was paying attention, he didn't bother trying to hide the emotions flooding his face. She saw the shock, the disbelief as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. It was quickly followed by relief, but it was the degree of relief that Inna hadn't expected. His entire body shuddered as it crashed through him. He dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders caved in as if his body was simply collapsing in on itself.

Then he was straightening, standing and acting like he hadn't just witnessed a miracle. Like he wasn't welcoming back his best friend from the grave.

Elizabeth stepped aside so her husband could see Neal. Peter let his eyes sweep over Neal's chest, up to the bandage on his head. As Neal held out his hand and smiled, Peter surprised Inna by grabbing Neal in a tight hug. It was brief, but it was more emotion than Inna expected him to show.

"You're alive," Peter said, stepping away, "How the hell are you alive?"

Neal rolled his eyes, "Well, don't sound too disappointed, Peter."

"That isn't what I meant," Peter said, "I saw you get shot. I watched you fall. There was…there was blood and…"

"If you would sit down," Inna said, gesturing to the couch, "I will explain it all to you."

Peter sneered at her, "Why should I believe anything you say?"

Inna glared at him, "Agent Burke, I have been patient with you because I understand your confusion. You are in the dark, so to speak, but my patience is wearing thin. Either sit down, and listen willingly, or Mikhail will explain it to you in a separate room. Your choice."

Elizabeth tugged on his arm, whispering his name. A slight push from Neal made up Peter's mind. He helped the conman to the couch. Inna smiled to herself as she watched them take their seats. She didn't know why, but it humored her that the couple forced Neal to sit between them.

Inna looked at Sofia and found the child fast asleep in her arms. She rolled her eyes and looked at Lanka.

"Put this to bed," she said, warily.

Lanka lifted the girl easily and headed to the bed a few feet away. Inna pulled her gun from her holster, ejected the clip, and pulled out the first bullet. She tossed it to Peter, who caught it deftly in one hand.

Peter examined the bullet, "It's rubber. What's this?"

Inna nodded to Serge, giving him permission to explain.

"They are called bloodlets," he said, "They are my own creation. The bullet is rubber but the tip is equipped with a packet that explodes on impact. It does not kill or wound, but gives the impression of it."

"Hurts like hell, though," Neal muttered rubbing his chest.

"What's in the packet?" Elizabeth asked.

Serge smiled, "That is the ingenious part. Corn syrup and red die will give the illusion of blood but it congeals quickly and it lacks the smell. But goats blood stands as a wonderful substitute."

Inna sighed as Neal's face went white as a sheet.

"I had goat's blood on me?" he asked.

"Mikhail," Inna growled, "I am too far away. Would you mind?"

Mikhail was all to happy to oblige and smacked Serge upside the back of the head. Rubbing his neck, Serge at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry," he murmured, "but you must admit that it is ingenious."

"Yeah, ingenious," Peter said, his eyes still trained on Inna, "except that if Neal hadn't hit his head, he would have still been awake, ruining your ingenious plan."

Inna raised her hand and pointed to the owl ring, "There is a tiny needle embedded in the band of the ring. The pendant contains a mild sedative that works instantly. Mr. Caffrey's injury was purely accidental."

Peter's anger spiked. Inna saw his fists clench, his jaw set, his eyes narrow. They were trying his patience, she knew. Honestly, she'd been amazed he'd held his anger in check this long. Mikhail saw the changes as well. He stepped forward, hand resting on his hip, just above his gun.

"You still haven't gotten to the part where you tell us why," Neal said before Peter could act on his anger.

Inna inhaled on her cigarette, regarding Neal quietly. He was the most confusing of the three. She understood Peter's anger and Elizabeth's quiet worry, but she'd expected Neal to be angry and indignant. Perhaps even fearful. But the young man seemed to be perfectly calm, taking everything they were saying in stride as if they were giving a tour at a museum and not telling him why he wasn't dead when he should have been.

It was most intriging.

"There are many reasons, Mr. Caffrey. The first is simple enough. As I told Agent Burke earlier, if I had not acted the way that I did, you would have been killed by Luka and he would not be merciful."

"Why would you care if Neal lived?" Elizabeth asked, her voice quiet with confusion, but Inna heard a small trace of gratefulness laced in her words.

"Reason number two," Inna answered, tapping ash off her cigarette, "Allowing Mr. Caffrey to die would turn the FBI's investigation of Dmitri into a murder investigation and their efforts to take him down would intensify, fueled by Agent Burke's anger. Instead of taking weeks, Dmitri's operation would be cut down to days and that would not be acceptable."

"You're doing this to save your boss?" Peter questioned, "Seems like a strange way to do it."

"I'm not doing this for Dmitri," Inna corrected, "In fact, I wish nothing bet the best for your case, Agent Burke. Nothing would please me more than that _sin sooka_ rotting away in prison, but only after I'm done with him."

"You're using him. For what?" Neal asked.

"I have spent the past two years working my way into his organization for the simple reason that he has contacts I could not otherwise access. One contact in particular. Until I have finished the business I have with him, I cannot allow anything to happen to Dmitri."

"But then why not warn him who we are?" Peter asked, "We started this operation weeks ago. You knew who we were, where I lived. You obviously did your research. So why allow us in to begin with?"

Inna blew out a cloud of smoke, watching it curl and fade, "Because of reason number three."

"Which is?"

Inna leaned forward, pointing her half burned cigarette at Neal, "I need Mr. Caffrey's help."

Neal's eyes widened slightly, but there were no other physical indicators of what he was thinking. Inna had the distinct impression that she was only confirming what he'd already suspected. He was calm and collected, acting with logic and not emotion. A core difference between him and Peter.

Peter put his hand on Neal's shoulder, pulling him behind him even as Elizabeth grabbed Neal's hand tightly between both of hers. It amazed Inna how protective of him they were. She hadn't threatened him, only said she needed his help, yet they acted like she'd asked to sacrifice him at the next full moon.

"Over my dead body," Peter growled.

Mikhail smirked, "That can be arranged."

A small scared sound escaped Elizabeth as she reached for her husband and Inna saw Neal tense. Sighing, Inna put out her cigarette.

"Enough," she ordered. Mikhail stepped back, but his eyes stayed on Peter's face, a silent warning. Inna turned to the trio on the couch, "I know you are frightened, and with good reason, but I have come too far to stop now. I will do whatever is necessary to finish this mission. We are capable of much, but I'd rather we didn't have to resort to that."

"We aren't going to help you," Peter said firmly, "We aren't going to help criminals."

Inna smirked, "But Agent Burke, isn't that Mr. Caffrey is?"

"That's different," Peter said quickly, "and it has nothing to do with this."

"You'd be surprised," Inna muttered, "At one time, Mr. Caffrey was an international con man. He's done things that I'm sure you aren't even aware of. For instance, I'm sure he has never told you about his time in Russia."

For the first time, she saw fear on Neal's face. He paled slightly, no doubt knowing exactly where she was going. He closed his eyes, carefully breathing through his nose. Peter looked at him, confusion and worry creeping on to his features.

"Neal, what is she talking about?"

Neal shook his head, "It happened a long time ago."

"Not that long," Inna said softly, "Agent Burke, I want you to understand something. It is true that we are criminals, but our world is not so simple as saint and sinner. While we have done some unsavory things, we are not the villian in this story. That title belongs to someone else entirely, and it is our mission to put an end to him."

Neal looked at her, shocked, "You can't mean-"

"I do," Inna said without flinching.

"Neal, who is she talking about?" Elizabeth asked.

"Tyen" Neal answered quietly, "She's talking about Tyen."

"Who is that?" Peter asked.

"A demon," Lanka answered softly from the corner where she leaned against the wall. She did not raise her eyes as she spoke, "He is a monster, an evil, and he must be stopped."

"His name means the Shadow and he is many things," Inna explained, "A thief, a murderer, a trader of art and flesh. He is powerful and dangerous, and like his name, he cannot be tracked. We have been trying for years, and now we finally have the opportunity to end him."

"Why do you need Neal for that?" Peter demanded.

"To lure Tyen into the open, we have to have something he wants," Inna said, "and he wants Mr. Caffrey."

Elizabeth clutched Neal's arm tightly, "Why does he want you?"

Neal sighed, "Because the last time I saw him, he promised that if we ever crossed paths again, he'd kill me."

Inna scoffed, "With good reason. How much did he lose because of you? 30 million?"

"47," Serge supplied, "plus he blew up his yacht."

Peter and Elizabeth stared at Neal with wide eyes, but the con man only smirked, "Don't forget the Aston Martin. I may have stolen that."

"Neal," Peter ground out, "what the hell?"

"Would you like to tell them, Mr. Caffrey, or shall I?"

Neal shrugged at Inna, "Well, you seem to know so much already."

Inna nodded, "So be it. Several years ago, Mr. Caffrey visited Moscow to, shall we say, relieve the museum of the some of its finer paintings."

"Allegedly," Neal added.

"While in Moscow, he heard of a shipment of art and artifacts worth millions. For several days, he watched and gathered intel until he discovered the owner of the shipment. At the time, he didn't know Tyen's reputation, but given what I've learned about you, Mr. Caffrey, I doubt that would have stopped you."

Neal shrugged, not comitting to an answer.

"He conned his way into Tyen's operation. He got close to him, a feat that is no small thing. Tyen does not trust anyone. He prefers to shoot first and ask questions later. But somehow, Mr. Caffrey wormed his way in, and even gained Tyen trust. Then the night the shipment was to arrive came. I do not know the details of how you planned to steal it all, but no doubt you would have pulled it off if things had gone according to plan."

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"The art wasn't the only thing being shipped," Neal answered, his eyes growing haunted.

"As I told you, Tyen is a trader of art and flesh," Inna said quietly.

Elizabeth gasped, "You mean, he had people on that boat?"

Neal shook his head, "They were children."

A horrible silence fell over them. Inna watched Neal hang his head as he remembered the faces and the voices from that night. Having seen first hand Tyen's work, she knew how haunting they could be, how horrifiying it is to remember their eyes and their pleas. Elizabeth pressed her face against Neal's shoulder, closing her eyes and holding tight to him. Peter was a different story.

When the story began, he'd worn an expression of frustration and resentment. He hated Neal's colored past and the actions he'd taken when he'd been part of the criminal world. But as the story continued, Inna saw Peter's face crumble. His hand tightened on Neal's shoulder, a silent reassurance. There was pain on his face, not for himself, but for what Neal had to face alone.

"So, instead of taking the the shipment as he planned, Mr. Caffrey contacted the authoritites and saved their lives. But in his attempts to evade the authorities and Tyen's men, he blew up the yacht and stole the car. Tyen promised that if he ever came across Mr. Caffrey again, he'd kill him."

"So you want to use Neal as bait," Peter said carefully, "to lure Tyen into the open?"

"Essentially, yes."

"That is never going to happen."

Lanka moved to beside Inna's chair, anger lighting her eyes like the dying embers of a fire, "You will not stop us. He will help us, whether willingly or not. And if you get in the way-"

"Lanka," Inna warned, "control your temper."

Lanka scowled at her, "We are wasting time tip toeing around them."

"And do you think forcing them will accomplish what we wish?" Inna asked, standing to her full height, squaring her shoulders as she faced off with the younger woman, "Do you suggest we beat them into submission, torture them into doing what we ask?"

Lanka stepped back, but anger still rolled off of her in waves, "It is taking too long."

"And this detour is not helping," Inna scolded. She turned to Peter, "Agent Burke, I admire your loyalty to Mr. Caffrey. In fact, I find it refreshing, but you are mistaken if you believe you are the one in control of this situation. You are at our mercy, and I am beginning to tire of showing it to you."

"I won't let you use Neal as bait," Peter said slowly, "I won't let you risk his life like that."

"I'll do it."

Silence filled the room as all eyes turned to Neal. He kept his eyes locked on his hands as the small admission left his lips. Elizabeth's eyes widened and she shook her head, clutching Neal's arm like she could make the words come back with just her willpower.

"Neal," Peter growled deep in his throat, but Neal cut him off.

"You promise that nothing will happen to them," Neal said firmly. It wasn't a request, and while Inna hated being told what to do, she found herself nodding. She didn't know how much comfort it offered. They were criminals; they lied. It's what they did, but staring at Neal's intense blue eyes and the resolve written on his face, Inna found herself vowing that she would up hold her promise.

"You have my word," Inna said softly.

Neal nodded, "Then I'll do it."

**A/N: The next chapter picks up the action. Thanks for sticking with this! R & R.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm hoping that if I update quickly I won't leave this on hiatus for so long. This chapter is much longer than the others, but like I said, it's got action. Thank you for the reviews and for sticking with me!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any one except for the crazy Russians.**

Night had fallen to the pitch black hours of the early morning. The smell of salt water and decaying fish filled the car as Mikhail drove through the wharf to the dock. Inna tried not breathe too deeply as the smell unsettled her stomach, and it was already twisted with anxiety. She inhaled on her cigarette, wondering what number she was on tonight, and tapped the ash out the partially open window. Beside her, Peter shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you have to do that?" he asked, waving the smoke away from his face and coughing.

"If I do not, I will become very difficult to deal with," Inna told him, ignoring the irritated glance Peter threw her, "We are very nearly there. You will not have to deal with it much longer."

Peter scoffed, "Funny, when you were explaining things you conveniently forgot to mention that you needed my help, too."

"Forgot, or planned?" Inna asked, "As you said, I researched you for weeks. I know much about you, Agent Burke. For instance, I know you will never abandoned your friend. Where he treads, you will surely follow, and if I have his cooperation, then I know I have yours."

Peter glared, "You don't have mine. I'm doing this for Neal, to keep him alive, not to help you. I don't work with criminals."

Inna snorted, "I will pretend you did not just say that."

Growling, Peter leaned away from her, pressing himself as close to the door as was physically possible. Inna looked at Mikhail in the rear view mirror. His eyes were on the road, but she knew from the way his muscles tensed and his jaw worked that he was focusing on their conversation. The thought that he was worried about what she said to Peter made her stomach tighten even more.

"Do you remember your part?" Inna asked quietly.

"I'm not stupid," Peter muttered, "I've got it."

"Good, I will not remind you of the consquences if you fail them. I'm sure you already know that as well."

His face reddened with anger, "You won't get away with this. You know that don't you? When this is all over, the FBI will hunt you down. You kidnapped us, and you're international criminals. You can't possibly think you'll be free after this."

Inna inhaled on her cigarette, facing his angry eyes with cold ones, "There are differnet kinds of freedom, Agent Burke."

Mikhail eased the car to a stop outside the warehouse, "We're here."

"Ready yourself, Agent Burke," Inna turned to Mikhail, "Circle the wharf. If we are not back with in ten minutes, you know what to do."

Mikhail nodded once, locking eyes with her through the mirror. There were many things on the tip of her tongue that she wished to say, but the time for that was later. After they'd won their freedom.

* * *

><p>Lanka watched as Neal slowly but surely convinced Elizabeth to sleep. She lay curled on the couch, Neal sitting on the floor beside her, clutching her hand. She'd been on the verge of tears ever since her husband left with Inna and Mikhail, and Neal had never let go of her hand, never let up on the constant stream of reassurances. Lanka almost found herself believing him.<p>

"Here," she said gruffily as she placed a plate and glass of water beside him, "You need to eat."

Neal looked at her, "Not really hungry."

"You have a mild concussion and have been here for several hours," Lanka said, "You must eat."

"Thanks," Neal said, picking up the sloppily made sandwich with his free hand, "I'll try not to throw it back up."

Lanka smiled slightly before turning abruptly and walking away. She didn't not want to become close to these people, didn't not want to harbor concern for their well being. There was only the mission, and Neal and Elizabeth and Peter were tools to finish the mission. Nothing more. If she let herself believe anything else, they would never succeed.

"Lanka, I need to see you."

Lanka moved across the flat to were Serge was set up with his lap top. The blue light glowed on his face, shadowing his cheek bones and his dark eyes. Lanka sat beside him, careful not to allow their bodies to touch. She did not need the extra distraction.

"What is it?"

Serge pointed to the screen, "I've got the blue prints for the mansion. This is not supposed to be there."

He pointed to what looked like an addition to the office. Tyen's mansion was expansive, already containing twenty odd rooms. Yet he had added on to it this small windowless room at the very edge of his home where it did not belong.

"It makes me nervous," Serge said, "I do not know what is in this room, nor why it suddenly appeared two months after our first recon of his home."

"Suspicious," Lanka agreed, "but it changes nothing."

"Lanka, if we send them in without the proper intell, we could fail the entire mission."

"If we do not act now, it will be another five years before we are able to take him down. We continue as planned."

Serge frowned, "Inna must know about this."

"We will inform her," Lanka promised, "but we go forward. I will not wait any longer."

Serge grasped her hand in his and she closed her eyes against he warmth that flooded through her fingers. He pressed her knuckles to his lips, gentle and tender.

"I wish I could take away your pain," he murmured, and Lanka felt her heart melt beneath his words, so sincere, so loving.

"Once this is over," she whispered, "We can move one. We can put this behind us. But until then, there is only the mission."

She felt him smile against her hand, "You will give me your answer then?"

She glared at him, "You are like a dog with a bone."

He shrugged, brushing her hair away from her face, running his thumb down her scar, "When I see something I want, I do not stop until I get it."

Giving into the weakness of her heart, Lanka leaned forward, touching her forehead to Serge's, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent of coffee and metal, "When this is over, I will have nothing left to hold on to, nothing to keep me from giving all of myself to you."

He kissed her nose softly, "I will hold you to that."

Lanka sighed heavily, "I must check on Sofia."

"Hmm. I must continue with my recon."

Yet neither of them moved for several moments, content to stay in each other's arms for the rest of their lives. Finally, Lanka pulled away, her heart already aching as she left him sitting in the light blue glow of his computer, watching her as she walked away.

Sofia was still sleeping, albeit fitfully, caught in the throes of another nightmare. She combed the tangled hair from the child's pale face, wishing she could will sweet dreams to her and lock the nightmares away forever. Inna was the only one who could calm Sofia down during one of her bad dreams, the only one that could make her fall asleep as the sun drifted down over the horizon. Sofia hated falling asleep since there was rarely a night that she didn't dream of fire and gunpowder. But Inna, for whatever reason, had the magic touch.

And as jealous as it made Lanka, she wished Inna was here to ease Sofia's suffering.

Her phone chirped in her pocket. Startled, Lanka moved away from Sofia's bed and to the back window, safely out of earshot of anyone else. When she looked at the screen, her heart leapt to her throat, and she quickly answered the call.

"Vivka, what is wrong?"

"Nothing," Vivka answered with a heavy voice, "How is she?"

Anger swelled in Lanka's stomach, "Vivka, I told you never to call this number unless it was an absolute emergency. You know that he may be monitoring you."

"_Da_, but this morning I received a report that he may be dead."

Lanka rubbed her temple, "It is false. You know better than this, Vivka. You are putting all of us in danger by calling, and I am doing the same by answering."

Vivka was silent for a moment and when she spoke again, Lanka could hear the tears in her voice, "I miss her, Lanka. I miss all of you."

"I know," Lanka said with a heavy sigh, "It is almost over, Vivka. Hold on just a little longer. I must go now. Do not call this number again."

"I'm sorry," Vivka whispered, "Be careful, _sestra_."

Lanka quickly hung up the phone and turned it off. She knew she should contact Inna immediately and tell her. She knew she should evacuate the others and fall back to the second safe house. But if she did all of that, the mission would have to be scrapped and started over and that was something she couldn't imagine doing. Besides, the chances of him actually tracking the thirty second phone call back to their location were a thousand to one.

No, they would remain here. They would finish this now. She just prayed she was making the right decision.

* * *

><p>Dmitri was eating fried chicken, his face and fingers covered in grease. It was enough to make Inna's stomach turn in revulsion. How he could eat something like that at three in the morning was beyond her. He took another bite of the chicken leg, mulling over Peter's words.<p>

"Am I to believe this?" Dmitri asked, eyeing Inna.

She nodded, "_Da_, I saw him with my own eyes."

Dmitri wiped the grease from his mouth on the back of his hand, "Mr. Collis, how did you come across this Neal Caffrey?"

"It was another transaction. My client had received merchandise from Caffrey. I've worked with him a couple times since, but I always do research on the men I work with. I just recently found out about his connection to Tyen," Peter answered easily.

Dmitri grunted, "Then why not take him to Tyen yourself? Why come through me?"

"Tyen is very secretive," Peter answered, "It could take months before I could contact him. I don't want to take the chance that Caffrey slips through my fingers by then."

Dmitri nodded, "I want sixty."

Peter, still playing the roll of Collis, gaped at him, "Sixty? Are you insane? I found him. I should get sixty."

Dmitri chuckled, "You talk as though you have a choice. You will give me sixty percent of the reward Tyen offers for Caffrey."

"But-"

Inna stepped forward, "You will take the forty, and you will be happy about it."

Peter glared at her, not faking the anger on his face in the slightest. Finally, he nodded, "Fine. I guess forty is better than none."

"Good!" Dmitri clapped his hands together, splattering grease, "I will arrange to meet with Tyen in the morning."

"Dmitri, perhaps it would be better if you did not attend," Inna said softly, approaching the table.

He eyed her, "You suspect trouble, Inna?"

She shrugged, "Tyen is a business man like you. And a good rule for businessmen is to never leave loose ends."

Dmitri nodded, smiling, "Thank you, Inna. You are always looking out for my best interests. What do you suggest?"

"Allow me to accompany Collis to Tyen's. I will be able to assure your reward and if things take a turn for the worst, I will be able to, shall we say, escape Tyen's hospitality."

"_Da_, I trust you," Dmitri said, "Stay with Collis, and get Caffrey. I will text you the time and address," Dmitri turned his attention back to Collis, "Inna will accompany you. She will insure that you do not try to betray me."

Collis waved the comment away, "Wouldn't dream of it. Now, are we going to go get this guy, or not?"

Dmitri waved them both towards the door, "_Da,da_. Go. I must finish my meal."

Peter headed to the door. As Inna moved to follow him, Dmitri, grabbed her wrist.

"Inna," he said softly, "if Tyen does not take care of loose ends, I trust you will."

She nodded, "Of course."

She left him in his warehouse, munching on fried chicken and licking his fat fingers. Disgusted, she wiped the grease off her wrist on to her coat. She could not wait until it was her turn to take care of loose ends.

* * *

><p>Quietly, Sofia tip toed out of her "room", careful to stay hidden in the shadows as she approached the couch. She could see Elizabeth sleeping, her hand dangling over the edge next to Neal's shoulder. Neal had his back pressed against the couch, knees drawn up to his chest, his head resting heavily on them. She got to her knees and crawled to him, peering at his face. Slowly, she reached toward him, finger extended and aiming for his nose.<p>

"Don't even think about it."

She squealed, scrambling backward and smothering a giggle. Neal lifted his head, smirking at her as she sat up and sat cross legged in front of him.

"I thought you were asleep," she whispered, "You scared me."

"Somehow, I think that's exactly what you were planning to do to me," Neal smiled, "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Sofia shrugged, wrapping her long blond hair around her finger, "I couldn't sleep."

"Same here. This floor is rather uncomfortable."

"You could sleep in the recliner," Sofia pointed out.

Neal glanced at Elizabeth, "I think I'll stay here."

Sofia watched him shift his position, extending his legs and pressing his shoulder against Elizabeth's hand. She moaned in her sleep, but relaxed a moment later as she nestled closer to Neal.

"You want to protect her," Sofia said, "but she's scared."

Neal watched her with curious eyes, "Yes."

"It's hard to protect someone from fear," Sofia went on, "cause there's nothing to fight. Like nightmares. They're real but you can't kill them, can't make them go away."

Neal cocked his head to the side, "You really do know what's going on here, don't you?"

She scowled at him, "I'm not stupid."

He chuckled, "I can honestly say that thought never crossed my mind. I just wish that you didn't, I guess."

Sofia scooted forward until only a few feet separated them, "Why?"

Neal sighed, "You're a kid, Sofia. You should be having play dates and slumber parties, not sitting in an abandoned building talking to a captive."

Sofia shrugged, "It isn't safe for me to go home."

"Why not?" Neal asked.

"My father is a bad man. He hurts people. He'll hurt me if he finds me. So I have to stay here, because I'm safe with Inna and Lanka."

"Sofia," Neal asked slowly, "did they kidnap you?"

Sofia rolled her eyes, "No, Neal, they didn't kidnap me. They _saved_ me."

Neal nodded, but Sofia could tell that he didn't really believe her. He probably thought they'd brain washed her or something. She wanted to tell him the truth, make him understand that even though they seemed like it, Inna and Lanka were not the bad guys and neither were Mikhail and Serge. But he probably wouldn't believe that either.

"So you father's bad," Neal said, "but what about your mother?"

Sofia swallowed hard, looking away from him, "She's gone."

The silence was suffocating, but not nearly as much as the memories that plagued her. If she let it, nightmare would consumer her. She could smell the smoke, feel the fire on her skin, hear the screams echoing. She remembered it vividly, and she hated it.

Neal scooted forward, crossing his legs to mimic hers. He sat in front of her, their knees pressing together. Usually, she felt small around adults, vulnerable, tiny. But with Neal, she felt at ease, safe even.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?"

She nodded, watching as he pulled a coin out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. He moved it effortlessly over his knuckles, one by one until it reached his thumb and then it vanished. He held his hand open to let her see that it was empty, then reached behind her ear and pulled it out.

Laughing, Sofia took the coin from him and held it in her palms.

"How'd you do that?" she asked, studying the coin.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Neal said, "but I will tell you this. It isn't the coin that's the magic trick."

"Then what is?"

He smiled at her, "It's making you show me that beautiful smile."

Sofia grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and whispering _spasibo_ in his ear. She felt him smile in her hair and wrap his arms around her back. And for a moment, Sofia was able to believe that no matter what happened they'd all be okay.

And then that moment ended.

* * *

><p>Lanka was on the second floor when the attack came. She heard glass shatter above her, heard heavy footsteps threatening to fall through the floor, and heard Sofia scream in terror. It all registered in an instant, and by then she was already grabbing her gun and running up the stairs, shouting at Serge to get out.<p>

She came up the stair well only to be met by a large man dressed in black and carrying an automatic rifle. She didn't hesitate to shoot him in the chest, point blank right above the heart. His eyes widened slightly before he fell to the ground, lifeless and heavy as stone.

Lanka was not prepared for the man standing behind his fallen comrade. He reached out to grab her, but she moved away. Unsure of her footing, she tumbled down the stairs, head over heels to the second floor landing. Something in her left wrist twisted and snapped and fire snaked up her arm. She could taste blood in her mouth. She'd lost her gun in the tumble, saw it lying at the bottom stair, and knew she'd never get to it in time. Her attacker came to her, rifle at the ready, aimed at her head.

"Where is the girl?" he demanded.

Lanka spit in his face, a small amount of satisfaction filling her as she watched the saliva and blood trail down his nose. He growled and raised his gun. A gunshot erupted in the stairwell, loud and sharp.

The man stood still for a moment, blood leaking from his head, before dropping to his knees and then to the floor. Lanka exhaled sharply.

"Lanka!" Serge shouted as he knelt beside her, "Are you alright?"

She touched his hand and nodded, not really trusting her voice. Grabbing her gun and cradling her wrist close to her stomach, she ran up the stairs with Serge hot on her heels.

"That's two," she said over her shoulder, "Did you see any?"

"Another two are down on the first floor," Serge answered, holding his gun at the ready, "The rest must be on the third floor."

Lanka nodded and held a finger to her lips as they approached the third floor landing. Serge took point, nodding the all clear as they moved out of the stairwell and into the open. Lanka held her breath as she moved, praying that she would hear some sign from Sofia that she was here and not already stolen away.

Serge held up his hand, halting their movements as he hid behind a broken wall. Lanka peered around her hiding spot to see what he was pointing to.

Kneeling in the middle of the living room with a gun aimed at his head was Neal. To the right, another man held Elizabeth upright, a gun pointed at her side. She'd been crying, but now she just looked pissed.

"I will ask again," the man threatening Neal said, "Tell me where the girl is or I will kill you now."

Neal shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Unhappy with the answer, the man slammed the butt of his gun against Neal's cheek, splitting it open. With a pained cry, Neal collapsed to the floor and curled in on himself just as the man began kicking at his ribs. Elizabeth struggled and cried out, cursing at the man and begging him to stop all in one breath.

Serge raised his gun and took aim, nodding to the man that held Elizabeth. Lanka nodded and aimed her gun at the man assaulting Neal.

"If you do not care for your own life," the man said, "then maybe you will care for hers," he pointed at Elizabeth, "Tell me where she is, or I will shoot your friend in the head."

Neal coughed, red blood tainting his lips, "Screw you."

With an enraged yell, the man delivered one more vicious kick to Neal's ribs and then aimed his gun at Elizabeth. He never had the chance to pull the trigger. Lanka shot him three times, twice in the back and once in the head. Serge only wasted one bullet on the man holding Elizabeth hostage and was already moving before the corpse hit the ground.

"Are you alright?" he asked, but Elizabeth ignored him, dropping to her knees beside Neal.

"You're bleeding," she said, touching his cheek and eyeing his rapidly swelling face.

"I'm fine," he gasped, "We have to get out of here."

"Where is Sofia?" Lanka demanded.

Neal coughed and lifted up the skirt of the couch. Carefully, Sofia crawled out, pale and red eyed. She clung to Neal as though her life depended on it.

"Good," Serge breathed, "We need to leave. Inna will-"

Lanka heard the shot the moment after Serge jerked backwards. She felt his blood spray across her face, saw his eyes cloud over with pain. Some one was screaming angry words in Russian, and it took her a moment to realize that it was her. It took another moment to realize she'd already shot the two men by the windows.

Elizabeth moved away from Neal to Serge, pressing her hands against the bloody wound high on his right shoulder. He groaned in pain even as he struggled to his knees.

"We have to leave," he panted.

With tears in her eyes, Lanka moved to his side and pulled him upright. His pained cry nearly broke her heart. Elizabeth was at his other side, supporting him and still pressing against the wound.

They ran for the stairs, Neal and Sofia right behind them. Serge cursed and yelled as they stumbled down one flight and then the next. There was only one flight left before they reached the door. One more set of stairs until they reached the car and got away. As they started down the stairs, Lanka glanced over her shoulder at Neal as he made it down the stairs to the landing. They would make it.

And then the world exploded.

**A/N: There are only a few more chapters left. Thanks for reading!**

**Translations (if the internet is to be believed):**

**sestra- sister**

**spasibo- thank you**

**sin sooka (from last chapter)- son of a bitch**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Another short chapter but it has plenty of action. Standard disclaimer and all that lot. I'm sorry for any mistakes. I tried to catch them all, but I'm sure some got by me. Thank you for reading!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>The blast shattered the stairwell, throwing Lanka, Serge, and Elizabeth into the wall at the bottom. As the debris rained around them and the heat stole the oxygen from their lungs, Lanka struggled to her feet, her head throbbing and her ears ringing. She couldn't hear Elizabeth yelling for Neal or Serge shouting as he used the wall to pull himself up. She was paralyzed by the wall of flames growing in front of them, thrown back to another time of smoke and fire and ash.<p>

She caught sight of Sofia, screaming and crying thick tracks down smoke-stained cheeks, clinging to Neal even as she screamed for Lanka. The image shifted and now she saw Sofia five years younger, her tiny face struck with the same terror, the same helplessness, wrapped in Nadya's arms as the flames surrounded them.

"No!" Lanka screamed, terror of past and present colliding in her chest, "Nadya! Sofia!"

"Lanka, snap out of it!" Serge yelled, shaking her shoulder. But Lanka was too far gone, sobbing Nadya's name over and over again.

"Neal," Elizabeth screamed, "You have to get out of there."

From behind the flames, Neal stumbled up to the middle of the stairs. Coughing and trying to shield Sofia from the heat, he waved them back.

"Go," he yelled, "We'll find another way out."

"Neal, we can't leave you!" Elizabeth protested.

The stairwell groaned a moment before a chunk of the ceiling gave way and collapsed between them. Serge yanked Elizabeth out of the way, narrowly avoiding being crushed himself. Neal waved at them frantically.

"Serge, get them out of here!"

Knowing there was no other choice, Serge reluctantly pushed Elizabeth to the stairs and grabbed Lanka around the waist. As she was pulled away from Sofia, Lanka suddenly came alive, struggling like her life depended on it.

"No! Sofia! Let me go! _Pozhaluysta, dayte mne umeret' vmeste s nimi!_"

But Serge, despite the pain and blood loss, refused to give in to her tearful pleas and pulled her down the stairs and out of the building. His knees gave out as soon as they cleared the doorway. Lanka fell to her hands and knees, sobbing in Russian as Elizabeth rushed to Serge's side and pressed her hands against his wound.

"Lanka," Elizabeth called, "What do we do? Lanka?"

Serge groaned, fighting against the pain to stay awake, and reached for Lanka, his hand falling just inches short of her wrist.

"Lanka!"

But Lanka couldn't hear them. She could only hear the crackling of the flames and the dying screams of Nadya.

"_Prosti_," she sobbed, "_Prosti. Prosti menya, sestra."_

* * *

><p>Inna sighed as she read Dmitri's text, giving her the time and address of Tyen's home. Not that she needed that. They'd known where Tyen lived for the past six months. But they couldn't just stride up to the front door, ring the bell, and walk right in. They needed access, and now they had it.<p>

It was so close to being over.

"How exactly is this going to work?" Peter asked from his side of the car, "How do you know Tyen won't kill Neal on sight?"

"Tyen has had this grudge for many years," Inna answered, "and he is not a nice man. He will want Mr. Caffrey to suffer and he will want to watch. But he will not have the chance."

Peter regarded her with an observant eye, "You plan to kill him."

"Did you think otherwise?"

"I can't be a part of this," Peter said shaking his head, "This is murder."

"What you call murder," Inna said softly, "others will call justice."

He glared at her, "It's murder. You are planning to kill a man. How is that anything else?"

Inna turned her face to the passing amber glow of the street lights and watched the slight drizzle of rain run down her window, "There was a man named Nikolai Kasyanov. He was a decorated war hero. When he returned home on leave to visit his mother, a 73 year old widow who ran a grocery store, he discovered that she was being pressured by Tyen to pay protection money. She was struggling, barely having enough to pay for bread. Nikolai was furious and the next time Tyen's men came for money, he refused and forced them out. He thought he'd won, he thought he'd protected his mother and everything he loved. But the morning he left to return to duty, Tyen attacked."

Inna turned to Peter, determinedly meeting his eyes, "He and his men spent two hours at the shop. They cut off every one of Nikolai's toes and fingers, sliced his flesh with hundreds of cuts and let him bleed out on the floor of his mother's store. And right before he died, Tyen slit the mother's throat in front of Nikolai. And then he burnt the store to the ground, but not before he sealed the bodies in the freezer as a warning to anyone who dared to disobey him."

Peter swallowed hard, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and fighting the bile rising in the back of his throat. The imagery alone made him want to throw up.

"That is only one account of what this man has done," Inna whispered harshly, "That is only one family he as murdered, maimed, or mutilated. So tell me, Agent Burke, do you think Nikolai Kasyanov would consider Tyen's death murder or justice?"

"It's horrible," Peter conceded, "but killing him only makes you like him."

"Do you let a rabid dog roam the streets?"

Peter shook his head, "You're over simplifying this."

"You are one to talk," Inna scoffed, "Every day, you over simplify the world. There are good and bad, cop and criminal, angel and demon."

"Saint and sinner," Peter said, remembering her earlier words, "So because he is worse than you, that makes him the demon and you the angel?"

She shrugged, "Your words. We do not see ourselves as angels, only soldiers."

Peter ran his hand over his face, "Yeah, you don't look like a bunch of angels."

"People see angels as little children flying on white clouds or as beautiful women with their arms opened wide. They often forget that in the Bible, they are portrayed as very different beings."

"How's that?"

Inna met his eyes, "As soldiers. Warriors. They battled, carried out God's will. Destroyed the evil and demons."

Peter frowned, but as he was about to speak, Mikhail suddenly slammed on the brakes, swearing under his breath. Inna slammed into his seat, letting lose her own string of curses.

"Mikhail-"

"Inna, the building."

It was burning. The world around them was lit by its hungry flames, leaking out from every window, blocking the door way, reaching for the sky. Inna tore out of the car like the devil himself were on her heels and ran for the building.

"Inna! Over here!"

She veered her course to the left where Elizabeth was waving her over. Serge was propped against the wall of a neighboring building, bleeding profusely from a shoulder wound and far too pale. Elizabeth had her arms around Lanka who was sobbing and cradling her left arm.

"What happened?" Inna demanded as she fell in front of them.

Elizabeth let go of Lanka, latching on to Peter, "We were attacked. We just got out. Oh, God-"

"Where's Neal?" Peter demanded.

"Sofia," Inna breathed out, "Where is Sofia?"

"They were caught on the second floor," Elizabeth said, barely holding back sobs of her own, "We couldn't get to them."

Inna was already running for the building. Mikhail grabbed her arms, pulling her back as she frantically fought to get away.

"Inna, you can't," he yelled.

"No, I must get to her," Inna screamed.

"It's too late," he shouted. She stilled in his arms, going still as death. Mikhail wrapped both arms around her and dropped his head to her shoulder, saying softly, "It's too late. I'm sorry."

"_Nyet,"_ Inna moaned, "_Nyet."_

* * *

><p>Sofia couldn't breathe. It was just like last time. The smoke was so thick that it felt like water choking her lungs, blocking and burning her throat. She buried her face in Neal's shoulder and clung to his neck as he crawled with one hand to the back of the second floor. The fire surrounded them, eating at the walls and burning everything it touched.<p>

"It's okay, Sofia," Neal coughed, panting with exertion and effort, "We're going to be fine."

Sofia whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as fire rolled across the ceiling through the thick cloud of smoke that hovered above them. She remembered the last time. She remembered how her mother had held her close, whispered in her ear that everything would be fine, that it would be over soon. But she'd lied. Everything was not fine.

They reached the windows and Neal jimmied it open with a heavy grunt. A wave of fresh air hit them, causing Sofia to cough and hack as her lungs tried to dispel the black smoke marring them. Neal leaned over the window sill, coughing right beside her.

It was so far down. She shuddered and pressed back against Neal's chest.

"What are we going to do?" she whimpered.

Neal kissed her forehead and looked her in the eyes, "Do you trust me?"

Sofia nodded without hesitation and didn't protest as he sat her on the window. She looked down, closed her eyes as more tears threatened to fall, and tried not to sob. Neal wiped the tears away with his thumb and held out his open palm. Sofia gave a small smile as she took the coin from him.

"There's that magic," he whispered and kissed her forehead, and then he dropped her out the window.

Sofia couldn't help the scream that flew from her mouth as she dangled from his hands against the rough brick of the building. Terrified, she glanced down at the concrete and screamed again.

"Sofia, stop kicking. It's okay. I've got you. Look up at me."

She tore her eyes away and obeyed, locking eyes with Neal. Smoke curled out of the window above him, swirling into the dark sky. He tried to smile but it had a grisly affect against his smoke smudged face.

"You're going to be fine," he panted, "I promise."

"Neal, I'm scared."

"It's okay. I'm scared to," he grunted, hissing as something inside the building hurt him, "but it's going to be fine. We're going to do a magic trick now. Alright?"

Sobbing, Sofia nodded.

"I'm going to make you fly," he said, smirking, "You ready?"

"Neal, I don't want to-"

"Trust me, Sofia."

And because she did, despite only meeting him a few hours before, Sofia nodded and closed her eyes. And when Neal let go of her hands, she didn't even scream.

* * *

><p>Inna was still wrapped in Mikhail's arms, pleading with him and God to let her reach Sofia, when she appeared from the alley.<p>

"Inna!"

At first, Inna didn't dare believe her eyes, believing she was only seeing what she wanted to and not what was possible. But there was Sofia, nearly black from smoke, dressed in a thin tattered and torn pink night shirt that reached her ankles. Her tangled blonde hair flew around her as she ran, stumbling barefoot over the rocks and trash.

Mikhail finally let her go and Inna dropped her kneels, enveloping Sofia in her arms and swearing to never let her go again. Sobbing, Sofia buried her face in Inna's shoulder, mumbling something Inna couldn't understand. It was unimportant. The little girl was alive and that was all that mattered.

Then Sofia pulled away, her eyes still full of tears but now a blaze with determination.

"Neal's still inside," she said, pointing behind her, "He's at that window."

"How did you get out?" Inna asked.

"Neal dropped me in the dumpster," Sofia said impatiently, "You have to get him, Inna. He saved me. Please."

Inna nodded, "Go to Lanka."

Sofia didn't wait, but ran to Lanka and Elizabeth. Peter moved forward, but Inna waved him away, ordering him to stay with the girls and Serge as she and Mikhail took off for the alley.

"Up here!"

Neal sat perched on the window sill of the middle window. He clung to the frame, but Inna could see the fire burning just inside, so close it nearly touched him.

"_Der'mo," _Mikhail muttered under his breath.

"Any suggestions?" Neal yelled.

Something inside the building exploded.

"You must jump," Inna shouted, "Jump into the dumpster."

"You gotta move it back," Neal pointed to where the dumpster had rolled away after he'd dropped Sofia into it, "I can't make it from here."

Mikhail quickly ran to the half-empty dumpster, rolling it back along side the wall. Inna looked up, intent on telling Neal to jump, jump now, when a second larger explosion shook the building.

And Neal fell.

With a half-choked yell, he tumbled out of the window, clawing at the air for a purchase, but coming up empty handed. Smoke and fire billowed out of the window in his wake, and the building groaned and shifted. It was collapsing, finally giving in to the damage wrought to its insides.

"Mikhail, grab him!"

Mikhail was already reaching into the dumpster and hauling a semi-conscious Neal out of it. Blood dribbled down the side of his face, whether from his old wound or a new one, Inna couldn't tell. They didn't have time to find out. The building was coming down.

They ran from the alley, dodging flaming debris and shouting for their comrades. Peter was already behind the wheel of the car, screaming for them to hurry. Above the clamor of the falling building, Inna could hear the wails of sirens in the distance. They crammed into the back of the car next to Lanka and Sofia. In the front, Serge was wedged between Elizabeth and Peter, his head hanging limply against his chest.

"Drive," Inna ordered, "Go, now."

With a quick glance at Neal, Peter obeyed. Inna turned to Mikhail.

"Is he alive?" she whispered.

Mikhail nodded, cradling Neal carefully, "But I am not certain of his injuries."

Grimly, Inna nodded and turned to watch as the building they had once called their home became nothing but smoldering ash.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The next chapter will explain who Nadya is, though most of you have probably figured that out by now. There should only be a few chapters left, but if your worried that this is the last of the whump for Neal, put your worries to rest. There will be more whump. Much more.**

**_Pozhaluysta, dayte mne umeret' vmeste s nimi- Please, let me die with them  
><em>**

**_Prosti-_ _I'm sorry_**

**_Prosti meny, sestra- Forgive me, sister_**

**_Der'mo- shit_**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So close to being done! I might actually finish it! Yay!**

* * *

><p>The second safe house was across the bridge in a small suburb of rundown houses. Despite its dilapidated state and rather unsavory residents, the neighborhood was quiet. The silence unnerved Inna. After being in the city for so long, the cacophony of cars and people became background noise, and its absence was very unsettling.<p>

But so was the blood she was washing off her hands.

The water was scalding and her skin was raw and pink beneath it, but she hadn't gotten all of the blood off yet. She could still see it staining her skin, still feel it caking in the crevasses of her fingerprints. And she had to get it off, had to wash it away. There was so much blood on her hands already. She couldn't stand the idea that she had Serge's blood there, too.

Finally, she turned off the faucet and watched the last of the pink-tinted water swirl down the drain. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough to wash it all away.

She glanced in the mirror as Mikhail entered the tiny bathroom. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, head held high, but his eyes betrayed him. While he held himself as casual and calm, she could see the stress lines by his eyes and the ache reflected in the blue irises. He was just as worried as her.

"He's sleeping," Mikhail stated quietly, "As long as we keep the wound clean, he will be fine."

Inna leaned heavily against the sink, "It was too close, Mikhail. He lost so much blood."

"We gave him more," Mikhail said quickly, "If we must, we will give him more after that. We will not let him die, Inna."

She looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, "How did this happen?"

Mikhail said nothing, having no answer to give her. She sighed, briefly closing her eyes, before staring at her reflection in the mirror. The small white scars that littered the left side of her face looked more prominent in the dimly lit bathroom. The longest of the scars ran from the corner of her left eye across her cheek bone and to the corner of her mouth. Scars of a past life that she could never really forget.

"I used to be beautiful, you know," she whispered.

Mikhail moved to her side, turning her away from the mirror and tracing the long scar with his calloused fingers. She forced herself not to flinch and to meet his eyes, unwavering and certain. When his fingers reached her lips, he let them hover there without hesitation.

"You still are," he whispered, barely audible.

Inna closed her eyes, relishing his touch, cherishing it. It had been years since she'd allowed herself to feel something for another man besides her husband. Years of suppressing and resisting and denying. Years of loneliness. Years of only the mission, but now there was so much more.

"We have come too far," Mikhail said, as if reading her thoughts, "If we give up now, it will have all been for nothing."

"It would be so easy," Inna said without opening her eyes, "to give up, to run away and hide, to never look back."

"We would never be safe."

Inna sighed, leaning into his touch, wishing for it to never end.

"He would never give up."

Inna tensed, her resolve slowly building back up, becoming hard as granite, resolute as the mountains.

"And they would never rest," Mikhail whispered.

The final nail in the coffin. Inna opened her eyes and pulled away, though reluctantly. Mikhail gave her the faintest of smiles.

"Gather the others in the great room," she ordered.

* * *

><p>Sofia refused to leave Neal's side and after her first meltdown when they tried to make her move, no one asked again. They told her he was just sleeping and it was his body's natural way of healing, but Sofia didn't buy it. Elizabeth was hovering and Peter was pacing, both of them casting worried glances at Neal as he slept on the pull out sofa in the great room.<p>

She'd let Elizabeth clean her up and bandage her scraped hands and knees. She'd drank the water and ate the apple slices Lanka had given her and agreed to try to sleep, but only if she was next to Neal. Which was how he'd ended up in the great room with Sofia nestled beside him, watching him sleep and wishing he'd wake up, the coin clutched tightly in her hand.

She could hear them talking about Neal and Serge. They said Serge would be okay, that the bullet had gone through and he was healing in the next room. They said Neal's ribs had bruised in the fall, some of them breaking, but he would be fine. They would all be fine.

Sofia didn't believe that at all.

Just as sleep was beginning to take her away, Inna and Mikhail came into the room. Sofia new something was wrong from the look on Inna's face. She was angry, angry enough to show it. A feat that didn't happen very often.

"We need to talk," Inna said, standing at the edge of the room.

Peter and Elizabeth looked up from where they sat on the small loveseat in the corner. Mikhail went to the back room and reappeared a moment later with an annoyed Lanka.

"Yes, we do," Peter said, "This needs to end."

"_Nyet_, that is not what we need to discuss," she glared, "Someone revealed our location. We need to know who and how."

"It wasn't us," Elizabeth said hastily.

"Elle-"

"No, Peter. It wasn't us. Neal and I were no where near any thing we could communicate with. And even if we were, we wouldn't have called your enemies. We would have called the FBI."

"I am not sure if I believe you," Inna said slowly, "Not because I distrust you, but because there is no other logical explanation."

"Maybe you messed up somewhere," Peter said, "They could have tracked you. Maybe Dmitri suspected something."

"_Nyet_," Mikhail said without hesitation, "Our operations have been untraceable. Serge insured that."

At the mention of the injured man a heavy silence filled the room. Sofia whimpered, burying her face into the blankets and clinging to Neal's hands. She was surprised when he squeezed back.

"Neal?"

The room's attention was quickly drawn to them as Neal groaned and opened his eyes. He looked around the room, sighing heavily. And then his eyes landed on her and he smiled.

"Hey there, magic trick."

She squealed in delight, hugging him around the neck and kissing his cheek repeatedly. He hissed in pain as she jostled his ribs, but that didn't stop her. She was too happy that he'd finally woken up.

"Sofia, let him breathe," Inna ordered with bemusement.

Reluctantly, she let go, sitting on her knees and bouncing in place as Peter came to the other side of the bed. Hesitantly, he pressed his hand against Neal's neck, eyes traveling across his face with concern.

"Neal, you alright?" he asked softly.

Neal wrapped his hand around Peter's wrist, smirking up at his partner, "Why, Peter. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you cared."

Peter scoffed, visibly deflating with relief, "Don't flatter yourself. The paperwork would be hell."

Peter moved away, allowing Elizabeth to lean over Neal and kiss his forehead, smiling through tears of relief.

"What happened?" Neal asked when Elizabeth moved away, "Serge? He was hurt-"

"He's fine," Lanka said softly, unable to meet his eyes, "Or he will be."

Neal nodded, relieved, "Who attacked us? And why?"

"It was Tyen's men," Mikhail said.

Neal frowned, "But how did he find us?"

"That," Inna said crossing her arms, "is what we would like to know."

As Neal stared at Inna in confusion, Sofia looked at Lanka, wondering why the woman was suddenly crying. She didn't have to wait long to get her answer.

"It was me," Lanka whispered brokenly.

Ice enveloped the room. Slowly, stiffly, Inna turned away from Neal to face Lanka, unable to keep the disbelief from clouding her face and her hands from clenching into fists. Mikhail wisely stepped out of her way as she crossed the room, stopping only inches from Lanka.

"What do you mean," she asked tensely, "it was you?"

"Vivka," Lanka whispered, "She called and I answered."

The room was horribly still for only a moment before Inna erupted. She grabbed Lanka by the front of her shirt and slammed her into the wall, knocking a clock to the floor. Lanka grunted but did nothing to fight the older woman off. Whether she knew she was no match for her, or that she deserved her punishment, Sofia didn't know. She cringed as Inna pulled Lanka away from the wall only to slam her back again.

"_Tupaya sooka_! Why? You know he would monitor her!" Inna shouted.

Lanka fought back tears, "I gave her the number for emergencies. Five years she's had it and not one call, but tonight she did. I thought he'd gone after her. I had to-"

"_Nyet_! You did not think," Inna shoved away from her, "You did not think of anyone but yourself! Your own selfish need. Your stupidity got Serge shot. It nearly killed Sofia."

"Don't forget Neal," Peter muttered angrily. Mikhail grunted, but Sofia didn't know if it was out of agreement or annoyance.

"I'm sorry," Lanka whispered, tears falling rapidly down her face unchecked, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to-"

"Enough," Inna growled, "You nearly cost us the mission, Lanka, and so much more."

Sobbing now, Lanka slid to the floor, "It's my fault. It was all my fault."

"_Da_," Inna agreed, glaring.

Lanka buried her face in her hands, "The fire, Nadya. I'm so sorry. It was all my fault. _Bozhe moy_, and now Sofia almost..._Prosti, prosti._"

Sofia saw Inna slowly crumble, the anger fading from her face like the light from the sun as nighttime fell. Her hands began to shake, her body began to tremble. But it was Lanka's next words that became her undoing.

Lanka looked up through her tears, "_Prosti menya, sestra._"

Sofia had not heard Lanka and Inna refer to each other as sister in years. It was an unspoken truth, a secret that everyone knew. They never acknowledged it, never acted on it, yet it always hung between them. But the soft word whispered so brokenly made the hard exterior of Inna Dragomirov crumble like sand.

She fell beside Lanka, gathering her in her arms, rocking back and forth as Lanka broke and shuddered against her chest. Peter and Elizabeth turned away as did Neal, unsure if they should be watching such an intimate exchange of grief and pain. No doubt they were confused. These were not the hardened criminals that had kidnapped them earlier that night.

But Sofia was smiling widely and she couldn't stop because she could hear Inna's soft words floating across the room, healing wounds caused so many years ago by fire and gunpowder.

"_Ya tebya lyublyu, sestrenka_," Inna whispered through her own tears, "_Prosti."_

* * *

><p>After hours of crying, Inna was finally able to get Lanka to rest. She had Mikhail put her in the same room as Serge with in reaching distance of each other. She hoped that it would calm her when she woke up to have him there.<p>

Inna herself was unsure of how to proceed, which was rare. Usually, she knew exactly what to do, had a plan of action for every circumstance. But there wasn't a rule for what to do when your captives saw you emotionally breakdown.

"So," Peter said casually as she came back into the room, "I think there are some things you should tell us."

Inna grunted, plopping down in the recliner and pulling out a cigarette. She was surprised she'd been able to go as long as she had without one. Peter stood beside the pull out bed, shoulders squared and arms crossed, trying to show a semblance of control in a hectic and frightening situation. Inna didn't fail to notice that he never moved farther than reaching distance from Neal, who sat up in the bed, grimacing when he moved wrong. It warmed Inna's heart that Elizabeth was sitting on the bed beside Neal, running her fingers through Sofia's hair as she slept in her lap.

Peter scowled as Inna lit her cigarette, but said nothing.

"Tyen tracked a phone call our sister Vivka made to Lanka's cell," Inna told them.

"He sent the men to kill you all," Peter said, "We got that, but it doesn't explain why. You haven't done anything to him yet. Have you?"

Inna sighed, rubbing her temples, and wondering just how much she should reveal to them. The less they knew, the better, but how willing would they be to cooperate if they were kept in the dark?

"Who's Nadya?"

Inna snapped her head up, locking eyes with Neal. He didn't flinch as her cold eyes settled on his face.

"Lanka said it several times," Neal explained, "when the fire started. And then earlier, when she was talking with you. Who is she?"

Inna swallowed, closing her eyes as Nadya's smiling face flickered through her memory, "She was our sister."

"Was?" Elizabeth asked tentatively.

"I think, perhaps, it is time you know the whole story," Inna said softly, inhaling on her cigarette.

"Inna," Mikhail warned softly, "do you think that's wise?"

"I don't know," Inna scoffed, "I don't know anything anymore, but what harm can it do to tell them?"

Mikhail nodded, believing in her decision without a second thought, and moved deftly behind her chair, not touching her, but his presence was enough of a support.

"The story begins," Inna began, "almost ten years ago. The four of us began to go our separate ways, losing touch as most sisters do. I am the oldest. I had joined the military the day after I graduated high school and was rising within the ranks as quickly as I possibly could. Vivka, second in line, had married years earlier and was living a quiet life with her children and husband outside of Moscow. Lanka is the baby and she was determined to be famous. She was dating a movie director and attempting to become an actress. She was the closest to Nadya."

Inna admitted the last sentence with much regret. Time had grown between them like a wall, impenetrable and impossible to scale. They had talked on the phone sometimes, chatted through email when they'd had the chance, but they had not been close by any means. Lanka was only close because Nadya had lived near her, but it was more than Inna had ever hoped to get.

"Nadya had just met a man," Inna continued, "She thought he was the man of her dreams. Rich, successful, handsome, loving- he was everything she'd ever wanted. So when he asked her to marry him, she did not hesitate. A month later, she was pregnant. It seemed like her life was a fairytale and she'd found her happily ever after."

"But?" Peter asked cautiously.

"But then she learned the truth about the man she'd married."

"It was Tyen, wasn't it?" Elizabeth asked.

Inna nodded, "She learned about his criminal activities little by little. And when she discovered how horrible he truly was, she contacted the authorities and offered everything she knew in return for her safety and the safety of her child."

Elizabeth gazed down at Sofia, her fingers stilling in her hair. Inna paused to inhale and exhale the cigarette smoke.

"Yes, Sofia is Tyen's daughter, my niece. That's why he attacked tonight. Not just to kill all of us, but to take her back."

"What happened to Nadya?" Peter asked, but his face said that he already knew.

"The authorities did not offer protection," Inna said, thinly veiling the anger in her words, "They forced Nadya to work undercover, gathering intell for their case against Tyen. She did this for two years, and then Tyen discovered what she was doing. The night he took his revenge, Lanka was visiting. She was supposed to take Sofia shopping. They weren't supposed to be in the house, but Sofia had gotten sick. They were there when the men attacked."

Neal stiffened, reaching for Sofia's hand.

"It happened much like tonight," Inna went on softly, "Two men attacked the house. Nadya had been cautious since accepting the assignment. She carried a gun with her wherever she went. She gunned them down, but not before they shot her and not before they set off a bomb. The house was engulfed in flames and a wall of fire separated Nadya and Sofia from Lanka. They were trapped with no way out. Nadya tossed Sofia across the flames and ordered Lanka to leave. She died in that house."

"That's how Lanka got the scar," Neal whispered, "and why she and Sofia were so afraid of the fire."

Inna nodded, "They both have nightmares. Those scars never really leave."

"So you took Sofia," Peter said, "and ran. And now you've devoted your life to taking Tyen down."

"Five years," Mikhail answered, "That is how long we have been preparing for this. That is how long we have been waiting to put their souls to rest."

Peter raised an eyebrow, "Their?"

"Did you think my sisters and I were the only ones hurt by him?" Inna asked.

"What happened to you?" Elizabeth asked quietly. Inna suspected it was only because she was the one to ask that Mikhail answered.

"My father," Mikhail answered, "He was a proud man, but he had a love of gambling. He borrowed from Tyen, and when he could not pay him back, Tyen took his payment."

Peter gulped, "I'm not sure I really want to ask this, but what was his payment?"

Mikhail's eyes hardened, "His eyes. He took his eyes."

Elizabeth whimpered, covering her mouth as tears of empathy swelled in her throat.

"And Serge?" Peter asked quietly.

"I've already told you his story," Inna answered.

Peter's eyes widened, "The soldier and the woman..."

"Serge's brother and mother," Inna nodded, "So now you know why we are so desparate to destroy him. One act of murder cannot be worse than all of the horrors he has brought upon us and countless others."

"But it's over now," Peter said, "We can't go through with it after tonight. What happened-"

"It will not stop us," Inna answered sharply, "Nothing has changed. We go on with the plan."

"Are you insane?" Peter demanded, jumping to his feet, "You're down one man, Neal is hurt, and Tyen knows you're coming. Why the hell would you go through with this?"

"Because we have nothing left to lose."

Peter shook his head angrily, "I won't let you do this. I won't put Neal in that position."

"You will do as I say," Inna growled, "We will meet with Tyen in three hours. We will follow this through, and you will do everything that is asked of you."

"He knows you're coming."

"He doesn't know me."

Peter stopped, caught off guard, "What?"

"Tyen and I have never met," Inna told him, "and though I do not doubt that he as done his research on Nadya's family, he will not be able to recognize me from photographs," she pointed to her scars, "I have changed much since my years as a soldier. He does not know who I am, he does not know my face. And even though he knows Lanka has Sofia, he does not know that I am with them."

"Yeah," Peter demanded, "and why is that?"

"Because according to the world, I am dead."

"Dead," Peter said, raising his eyebrows, "You?"

"Circumstances years ago persuaded the Russian military to declare me deceased," Inna said, tapping the ash from her cigarette, "I have never endeavored to correct them."

"You're a ghost," Neal said with the faintest of smirks, "No one can track you because technically you don't exist."

"_Da_, and today, this ghost is going to kill a devil."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More Neal whump in the following chapter. Your reviews will decide just how much I hurt him! :)**

**_Tupaya sooka_- stupid bitch  
><strong>

**_Bozhe moy_- My God  
><strong>

**Prosti- I'm sorry**

**Prosti Menya, sestra- Forgive me, sister**

**_Ya tebya lyublyu, sestrenka_- I love you, little sister**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Alright so I fibbed a little. The actual Neal whump will be in the next chapter. I had originally planned for it to be in this one but it just felt right to end this chapter here. Plus, this way the whump won't be rushed! :)**

* * *

><p>The first light of the morning sun filtered through the dirty window pane and tattered curtains, warming Lanka's face. She stirred, waking slowly to one moment of peace and contentment before her memories came back with haunting clarity. The guilt she carried was heavy, like a metal bar across her shoulder and an anchor around her legs. It weighed her down, threatened to drown her, consume her. With a shuddering sigh, Lanka pushed it back and sat up in her bed.<p>

Only to find Serge staring at her.

His green eyes watched her through his half-lidded stare. Buried beneath so many blankets and his expression so still, he seemed dead, passing quietly during the night. But slowly, sluggishly he blinked and moved his lips, desperately trying to form a word.

Lanka fell to her knees beside his bed, taking his hand in hers and pressing his knuckles to her cheek. He closed his eyes, sighing heavily as he weakly squeezed her hand. Lanka felt the urge to cry well in her chest and throat, but she'd shed so many tears over the last few hours, that her body simply couldn't make any more. So she sat beside him, shaking and wishing she could show him just how sorry she was.

She leaned forward, running her fingers through his hair, and kissed his face, "I'm so sorry, Serge. I should have told you so long ago."

He watched her, too tired to form words. She wrapped both hands around his and pressed them over her heart.

"I should have said yes when you asked me," she whispered, "I never should have made you wait."

A ghost of a smile spread across his face as he realized what she was saying. She offered a tentative smile back.

"When you are healed," she said softly, "you will ask me again and I will tell you the answer I should have said then."

He mouthed a word, his voice too hoarse and raspy to be heard. But Lanka understood.

"Tyen will be taken care of," she assured him, "but even if we fail, even if we never end him, that shouldn't stop us from living. We've put our lives on hold for too long, Serge. Nearly losing you has made me see what is most important in life. And it is not seeking revenge."

Weakly, he raised his fingertips to her scars.

"Our scars will heal," she whispered, "if we let them."

Smiling as widely as he was able, he weakly pulled her hands towards him. She followed, falling on his chest, wary of his wound, and kissed him as deeply and passionately as she dared.

And later, after they'd broken the kiss, she stayed right there, never leaving his side, vowing she'd never be so blind again.

* * *

><p>This was the moment Inna had been planning for five years. This was where it all ended.<p>

She walked beside Peter as Tyen's guards led them down the grandly decorated hallway to Tyen's office. She'd studied the blue prints enough times to know the lay out of the mansion like the back of her hand. They passed the kitchen and the study, breezed by the paintings and the sculptures to the last door at the end. Waiting inside for them was Tyen.

Inna glanced at Peter, watched as he tried to keep his tension in check. Ahead of them, two men flanked Neal, leading him none too gently through the office door. She knew Peter wanted to tear Neal away from his handlers and run. She didn't blame him, but they were in too deep now. They had to see this through to the end.

They stepped into the office, an elegant room decorated with rich leather furniture and mahogany floor boards. But Inna wasn't interested in the decor. All she saw was the man standing at the window.

He was shorter than she'd imagined, but he was stocky and well built. He wore a simple blue button up shirt and gray slacks, and the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. He was tan, silver haired, and confident. To the outside world, he seemed harmless. Just another man, semi-good looking, a business man and nothing more. Some one so evil, Inna decided, should not look so average.

Tyen turned away from the window and took the burning cigar from his mouth. He moved across the room like a snake slithers across the ground, slow and purposeful. When he reached Neal, he handed the cigar to one of the men holding Neal's arms.

And then he punched Neal across the face.

Peter flinched and hissed between his clenched teeth, but otherwise did not move. Inna had to give him credit for controlling her emotions, because she was suddenly finding it very difficult not cry out in anger.

Neal sagged between his captors, blood leaking from his mouth and staining his teeth. Tyen grabbed him by his shirt and heaved him upright.

"I have been waiting for a very long time to do that," Tyen said.

"Nice to see you to," Neal grunted.

Tyen chuckled, shoving Neal away, "Always with the bravado, Neal. I think I will have to break you of that."

"Looking forward to it," Neal muttered.

Tyen took back his cigar and stepped away, turning his attention to Peter and Inna. For a moment, worry flickered through Inna's stomach that Tyen would somehow know why they were there, or at the very least realize who she was. They had never met, but Inna resembled Nadya the most of the four sister. But Tyen's eyes roamed over her face without recognition and landed on Peter.

"You were the one that found him?" Tyen asked, moving back to the desk.

"Worked with him a couple of times, did some research," Peter said, "Found out what he was to you. And about the reward."

Tyen chuckled, "Money, always about the money. People become blind and petty when money is offered."

Peter shrugged, "Hey, I'll take it any way I can get it."

Tyen took a small packet of money out of the top drawer of his desk and moved in front of Peter, holding it out, "Yes, I see that. And it doesn't bother you that you've just handed a man over to his death? A death, that I can assure you, will be anything but slow."

Peter gripped the end of the packet, "What happens after I leave here is between you two. I'm washing my hands clean of it."

Tyen smirked around his cigar, releasing the packet, "Good to know, Mr. Collis. My men will show you out."

Peter's eyes darted to Inna, but Tyen waved him out.

"I have business to conduct with Ms. Dragomirov that does not concern you," Tyen rounded his desk, "Pleasure working with you, Mr. Collis."

Peter cast a glance at Neal as he was led from the room, and Inna wondered how long it would be before his acting skills failed and Tyen would see through their rouse. But he didn't notice the reluctance and worry on Peter's face. He was watching her.

"Dmitri must be very busy," Tyen said, "if he could not deliver Caffrey himself."

"He has many affairs," Inna said, "It is my job to stand in his stead when he is unable. But he sends his deepest regrets that he was not here in person."

Tyen grunted and looked to the men holding Neal, "Take him to the chambers. I will be along momentarily. And do not touch him," Tyen grinned evilly, "I want all of the pain he feels to be brought by me."

It took everything Inna had not to watch Neal be dragged away. It was necessary that she remain impassive, uncaring, and she knew that if she looked at him, her concern would give her away. So she watched Tyen and sat down as he gestured towards the sofa. She did her best not to flinch as the door shut behind her.

Tyen poured himself a drink from his bar and sat diagonal from her. He was with in arms reach, relaxed and unaware, so sure of himself. So naive.

"What was in the packet?" she asked.

Tyen smirked, "Money, of course. I did agree to pay the man who brought me Neal Caffrey."

"Yes," Inna agreed, "but you did not say if he would be able to keep the money."

Tyen eyed her, "Dmitri has done well to trust you. You are very observant and correct. I'm afraid Mr. Collis will not have the opportunity to spend that money."

"How unfortunate for him," Inna said, "I'm certain that you and Dmitri have come to a different agreement."

Tyen sipped his drink, "We have."

He pulled a black velvet bag from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it one handed and tentatively poured out its contents. Several perfectly clear diamonds tumbled out into her palm.

"Diamonds are so much easier than money," Tyen said, "Not as messy."

Inna put the diamonds back into the bag, tightening the drawstring and slipping the bag into her coat pocket.

"Dmitri will be pleased."

"Yes, he will be," Tyen muttered as he leaned forward, "but then you always please him, don't you Ms. Dragomirov?"

She cocked her head to the side, "I do my job and I do it well, if that is what you're asking."

"I know. I've done my research on you. I see why Dmitri trusts you the way he does, why he sent you here today. And I must admit, it has given me an idea," he sipped his drink while Inna waited patiently, "Work for me, Ms. Dragomirov."

"I have an employer."

"No, you have an anchor. Dmitri holds you back, Inna. I believe you are capable of much, and if you worked for me, I believe you would flourish."

"You are asking me to betray Dmitri. He has given me much."

Tyen smirked, "Not as much as I can give you. You know of me; you know the power I possess, the wealth. I could make you rich beyond your wildest dreams."

Inna smirked, "Back to money again?"

"Always," Tyen answered, "What do you say?"

Inna leaned forward, "What happens if I say no?"

Tyen's eyes narrowed, hardening slightly, "Many have tried to refuse my offers. They do not succeed."

Inna pretended to contemplate this, "Then I believe you have left me no other option."

Tyen laughed, "Yes, well, I always get what I want. Welcome to my operations, Ms. Dragomirov."

He offered his hand and Inna accepted it, squeezing firmly even though it made her skin crawl to touch him. He was smiling as they shook hands, but slowly it faded.

And for the first time in many years, Inna smiled.

"Don't worry," she said as she let go of his hand and pushed him back against the couch, "You are not dying, though I expect that is how it feels."

Tyen gasped, eyes unblinking. Inna took his glass and sat on the edge of her chair.

"It is a paralyzing agent," she said, showing him the large ring on her right hand, "It freezes your muscles, but does nothing to the consciousness. I wanted you awake for this; I wanted you to be able to hear every word I said."

Reaching across his prone body, she pulled out the gun he had tucked in his waist band and checked the clip.

"Right now, you are probably trying to remember who I am. Do not bother; we have never met face to face," she leaned forward, the glass in one hand and the gun in the other, "My name is not Inna Dragomirov. Years ago, my name was Inessa Marinov, but that woman died the day you killed my sister."

Tyen's eyes widened only fractionally, but his chest heaved as his breath quickened. Inna pressed the barrel of the gun to his knee cap.

"Did you really think we would forget?" Inna whispered, "Did you really believe for one second that we would let you live after what you did to Nadya?"

Inna cocked the gun.

* * *

><p>Mikhail was a man of action, had always been. Even as a child when bullies would attack a smaller, weaker kid in the school yard, he didn't say anything to them before he threw himself into the fray, fists flying and legs swinging. And his father would sit with him at the table, cleaning his split lip and offering him ice for his black eye, but he never asked Mikhail to explain himself. Mikhail's father was never one for words. His knowing look and proud smile was all Mikhail had for praise, but it was enough.<p>

That was why the last few years of planning and scheming and gathering intell was so difficult for him. He wanted to go in guns blazing, end it then and there, put it to rest the way he'd put his father to rest so many years ago. This waiting and biding time was not his style.

Charging in, that was his style.

That was why, after years of holding back and slinking in the shadows, Mikhail finally felt alive.

He didn't even use his gun when he came to Tyen's home. For the first two men he used only his hands, snapping the first's neck and smashing the second's nose into his brain. The next few he used a combination of his hands and his knife. In part, it was to keep his presence silent. He didn't need the entire goon squad attacking him at once. But deep in his heart, he knew that wasn't the only reason. This was his revenge, his action. He would never meet Tyen face to face. That wasn't the plan. Inna would be the one to kill him, and while a part of him wanted to be the one to see the light fade from Tyen's eyes, Mikhail knew it was not to be.

So this would be his justice.

He reached Peter after killing the sixth guard. They were leading him out the back, more than likely readying their guns to put a bullet in the back of his head. He took the first one out quietly, sliding the blade of his knife along the front of his neck without a sound. The second one reached for his gun and had it up, finger on the trigger. But Mikhail easily knocked it away, landing a series of blows to his chest and face.

Peter stood between the two bodies with an awed and horrified expression on his face. Mikhail methodically wiped the red-stained blade on his pants.

"Did you think it was all talk?" Mikhail asked, unable to hide his smirk.

Peter clenched his teeth, "We need to get Neal."

"That is not the plan," Mikhail reminded him, "We have another agenda."

Peter grabbed his arm as he turned away, and it took all of Mikhail's will power not to snap three of his fingers and dislocate his shoulder. Peter saw the menacing gaze and wisely dropped his hand, but the sheer determination did not leave his face.

"They're going to torture him," Peter hissed, "We don't have time to wait for Inna."

"We stick to the plan," Mikhail said.

Peter glared, "You stick to the plan. I'll get Neal."

Mikhail sighed heavily. He'd never been a man of words. Only action.

Which was why he punched Peter in the face.

He caught the agent under the arms, patting his back before hefting him up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It made his job slightly more difficult, but it was still doable. He turned back the way he'd come.

Now, where to place the bomb?

* * *

><p>Inna turned Tyen's head toward the back wall of his office.<p>

"My technician discovered your knew room," Inna said as she moved towards the painting hanging behind the desk, "Unfortunately, he was injured before he could tell me, but he'd saved the data on his laptop. But the question is: What is the room for?"

She trailed her fingers over the frame of the painting, "A panic room perhaps? But that doesn't suit you, Tyen. You are too confident, too cocky. You believe yourself to be invincible, untouchable. A man with your complex would not think it necessary to build a room meant for panic."

She turned, smirking at him, "Ironic, given your situation."

Tyen huffed through his nose, unable to answer.

Inna sat at his desk, tapping the barrel of the gun on the polished wood, "So, not a panic room. What then? The answer is startlingly obvious. You don't trust any one. You've been betrayed too many times, so it would stand to reason that you would not trust a bank with all of your money. You would want it close. You would want it where only you could access it, only you could see it," she smirked, reaching under the desk and pressing the button hidden there, "So you built a safe."

The wall behind her slid open, revealing a wall to floor silver door, a key pad in the center.

Tyen's face turned red and a pathetic sound wheezed past his lips. Inna stood, walking to the front of the safe.

"Now, there is the simple matter of the pass code," she traced her fingers down the pad, "You probably think that I have some gadget that will allow me in here, but you'd be wrong," she faced him, "You see, Tyen, I have spent the last five years learning everything I can about you, studying you, observing every movement, every action. I know everything about you." She gestured around her, "and the answer lies with in this room."

Tyen's eyes swept around the room and his distress made Inna smile.

"You have no pictures of her," she said, softly, knocking over a frame on his desk with the gun barrel, "Nothing to remind you of her, nothing to keep her close. So, it would stand to reason that you would honor her with the greatest of privileges," she approached the keypad, "guarding your most cherished possessions."

Inna carefully pressed the numbers of Sofia's birthday, smiling widely as the safe door chirped and opened. Behind it, lining the shelves on all three walls, was millions of dollars. Inna chuckled, grabbing a wad and kneeling in front of Tyen.

"This is what you love," she sneered softly, "This is everything to you, so it is only fitting for you to lose it all."

Tyen's eyes bulged and his face turned purple with exertion and effort as he struggled to make his body move. He choked, desperately trying to scream. But his body betrayed him.

"Do you know how easy it was to manipulate you?" she asked in a hushed tone, "Five years of failed robberies and foiled burglaries. Every attempt had a reason behind it, you know. I knew you would grow paranoid and I knew you were so conceited to believe that you were the only one who could protect it. I just had to wait, bide my time until you did what I anticipated. And now, I have you right where I want you."

She pulled his lighter from his pocket and flicked it with her thumb, lighting the tiny flame in her hand, "It's your turn to burn."

The bundle of money instantly caught on fire, blackening the crisp bills and hungrily eating away at the paper. Inna stood, walking back to the vault and setting the burning money on the shelf, watching as the fire leaped from bundle to bundle.

Leaving the door open, Inna walked to the bar and poured herself a drink before kneeling in front of her captive. It made her stomach dance when she saw the tears leaking from Tyen's unblinking eyes.

"You should know that I am not going to kill you now," Inna told him, "The poison that I injected into you does not have an antidote and in ten minutes, it will destroy your internal organs. You will die a slow and painful death, alone, with no way to call for help. But you will not die until after you've watched your millions burn to ash. And as the last of the embers fade, a bomb will go off, reducing your mansion to cinder and soot. It will collapse on your corpse, burying you beneath everything you've killed for."

Tyen gasped, shuddering in his unresponsive husk of a body. Inna leaned close to him, being certain to catch his gaze.

"I have spent years wondering what I would say to you in this moment," she whispered, pressing his drink back into his hand, "but I could never come up with the right words. Nothing I thought of could express exactly what I wanted to say. So I took a page from Nadya's book. She always loved poetry."

Inna raised her glass, "I drink to our ruined house, and all of life's evils too, to our mutual loneliness, and I- I drink to you," She pressed her hand against his throat, gradually putting more and more pressure on his trachea, "to eyes, dead and cold, to lips, lying and treacherous, to the age, coarse and cruel," she leaned forward, whispering the last line in his ear, "to the fact no God has saved us."

Inna released his throat and Tyen gasped weakly. She stood, throwing back her glass and swallowing the alcohol thickly. She tossed the glass next to Tyen on the couch and walked to the door without looking back.

"_Dasvidaniya, ty sin sooka._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And so ends Tyen. But the story's not over. We still have a Neal whump chapter to get through. Will update soon!**

**Dasvidaniya ty sin sooka- Goodbye you son of a bitch**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: As promised, the Neal whump chapter and wouldn't you know it would be the longest chapter so far? Be warned, it is a bit graphic, and I make no apologies for Inna and Mikhail. They are mercenaries after all. Also, since I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, the poem Inna quotes to Tyen is called "Our Ruined House" by Anna Akhmatova. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p>Inna should have seen it coming; she should have known. The plan had gone so well, too well. She should have known something bad would happen. But she'd denied that anything could go wrong, that reality woud deviate from the well laid plans of mice and me.<p>

She rushed to the chambers, the holding rooms Tyen had for his unwanted guests, noting some of Mikhail's work as she hurried to the basement. If she was the hardened criminal she liked to believe she was, she would have left Neal there, disappeared without so much as a second thought of the conman. But her hard exterior was slipping and though she was loathe to admit it, she was fond of Neal. It was hard not to be when he'd risked his life to save Sofia.

Which was why, when she reached the chambers, she finally lost all semblance of control.

The two men that had taken Neal had not followed Tyen's orders to not lay a hand on him. Blood matted his hair where his earlier head wounds had reopened; it ran down his face in rivers, soaking into the fibers of his shirt collar and giving him a ghastly appearance. His mouth and nose were bleeding and as he lay on the ground, struggling to get his knees under him, he coughed up blood. And from the way he craddled his ribs, Inna didn't know if the blood was just from his split lip or internal damage.

Whatever its cause, Inna didn't wait to find out. The men turned, hands on their gun handles, as she entered the room. She took in Neal's condition in one heartbeat and attacked in the next.

The first man didn't even know what hit him as she fired two bullets into his head. He fell back as heavy as stone into his partner. As the second man pushed the body away and raised his gun, Inna charged forward, snapping his extended arm to the side, the bullet flying from his gun's chamber harmlessly into the hall. She moved with purpose and anger, slamming her head into his face and breaking the cartilidge of his nose. He gasped, gagging on his own blood, and stumbled back into the wall. He raised his gun, but Inna fired off three shots before he could bring it level. He slumped lifelessly to the ground, leaving behind a crimson smear on the gray wall.

Shaking with anger, Inna dropped to her knees beside Neal, tentatively putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" A stupid question, she knew, but she didn't know what else to say in this moment.

Neal coughed sharply, hissing as the pain in his ribs flared, "Never better." He glanced at the men, quickly looking away, "Glad I'm on your side."

Inna moved, blocking his view of the bodies with her own, "They should not have touched you."

Neal watched her with a curious gaze, "Is that concern I hear?"

Inna frowned, unwilling to admit it out loud, "We must hurry. Mikhail will have armed the bomb by now."

Neal nodded, painfully struggling to his feet. Inna moved under his arm, supporting most of his weight as he fought off the dizziness and pain.

"I take it everything went according to plan then," Neal muttered as they headed down the hall.

"Not completely." At his uncertain look, Inna said, "You were not supposed to be injured. That was not part of the plan."

Neal scoffed, "Yeah, well, that's usually my roll, screwing up plans and attracting trouble. It's what I do."

"You should do less of it," Inna muttered.

They struggled up the stairs, stopping several times for Neal to push through a dizzy spell. Inna was getting antsy. The longer they took to get out of the house, the closer they would be to the bomb blast. If Mikhail had done his part, the bomb would detonate in only a few minutes.

"Quickly," Inna urged, pulling Neal away from the wall he rested against, "Only a few more yards."

Neal nodded, dragging his feet behind her as she pulled him gracelessly through the hall. They were almost to the foyer; Inna could see the door. And then the men came.

Two came from the front, weapons drawn and firing. Inna fired quickly, winging one and driving them both back for cover. Another man came from behind, but Inna quickly ended him, pushing Neal back down the hall.

"What do we do?" he asked breathlessly.

Inna cursed under her breath, "There are more coming from upstairs."

She saw at least three more men hurrying down the staircase. They were pinned and she knew her gun was running out of ammunition fast. And the bomb was ticking down.

"Inna!" Neal shouted, pointing to the stairs.

She turned, firing, and realized a moment too late that it was a distraction. She had a fraction of a second to curse before the man came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her neck and pulling back. She arched her back to alleviate the crushing pressure and turned her gun towards his face, but he grabbed her wrist with his free hand and held it away.

Neal was pinned against the wall, struggling against his own guard and losing badly. The guard smiled as he drove his fist into Neal's ribs, sending the con man to his knees, gasping and wheezing for breath.

The last two men came through the foyer, guns raised and fingers on the triggers. Inna knew they would not hesitate to kill them. There would be no questioning, no interrogation or negotiations. Only a bullet through the brain.

And then Mikhail, beautiful, wonderful Mikhail, appeared in the door way, a gun in his hand and a feral snarl on his face.

Inna didn't watch as he took out the two men, trusting that he had it under control. She stomped her foot down on her captor's instep and plowed her elbow into his ribs. He cried out, doubling over and loosening his grip on her throat slightly. But it was enough. Inna leaned forward and then drove her head back against his face. He stumbled away, releasing her neck and wrist. She turned, fired off a shot into his shoulder, and then spun away, not even waiting for the body to fall to the ground.

The gun in her hand was spent of bullets, but that didn't make it any less of a weapon. As Neal's attacker turned towards her, pulling a knife from his belt, she spun the gun in her hand, grabbed it by the still warm barrel, and cracked against his skull. He stumbled, but charged her anyway, sending both of them tumbling to the ground.

His hands went for her throat, pressing and squeezing and denying air into her lungs. She clawed at his face, arching her neck as she desparately searched out Mikhail. But he was fighting with his own hoard of men, taking them out one by one and with methodical precision. As good as he was, he wouldn't make it to her in time.

Inna pressed her thumbs into the man's eyes, kicked at his tender stomach, anything she could do to get free, but he outweighed her by fifty pounds of muscle and she was rapidly losing air. Deep in her heart, even as fear and desparation filled her, she knew she wasn't making it out of this one.

And then the man stilled above her. His hands loosened as his face clouded with pain. Something slammed into his head again, and he tumbled to the side, falling on her shoulder. Coughing, Inna scrambled out from under him, staring up in wonder at her rescuer.

Neal stood unsteadily above her, a cracked marble statue in his hands, and smirked at her.

"Not the way I usually admire art," he wheezed, tossing the statue to the ground.

Inna rubbed her throat, "Took you long enough."

Neal smirked and extended his hand to her. She smiled her thanks, moving to accept his help, when the world seemed to slow to a crawl.

She heard Mikhail shout a warning, saw the man move from the corner of her eye, saw the flash of the gun muzzle as it fired, and heard the two shots in rapid succession, followed closely by a third. Neal jerked back once, twice, the bullets slamming into his body without mercy or remorse. Shock and pain and disbelief flickered across his face as he stumbled back from her and collapsed to the ground.

Inna screamed. Not with words; there were no words she could say at that moment. There was only emotion, anger and guilt, rage and fear. She scrambled across the tile to Neal, automatically pressing her hands against his wounds as he choked and shuddered against the pain. Her eyes surveyed the damage, noting the higher wound in his shoulder was a through-and-through. The second wound was worse, lower, just below his collar bone and above his heart, the bullet still lodged in his flesh.

There was so much blood. It poured out of him, soaking his clothes and pooling beneath him, running in streams over her fingers as she tried to staunch the flow. He gasped in pain and fought to catch his breath, searching out her face.

"That-" he gasped, loudly, painfully, "was not...part of the plan."

Mikhail dropped beside them, gun still at the ready and eyes still looking for a potential threat, though Inna didn't miss that his hand found its way to Neal's uninjured shoulder.

"We have to move," he said, "There is only two minutes left on the bomb."

Inna grabbed the gun from him and another from the floor where one of the guards had dropped it.

"Carry him," she ordered.

"Inna-"

"Carry him, Mikhail," she hissed, and this time he wisely didn't question her.

Neal choked out a pained cry as Mikhail gathered him in his arms, following only a few steps behind Inna.

"There are more men," Mikhail warned her as they neared the door.

"Good," Inna whispered.

She cocked the guns, stepped outside, and shot anything that moved. Her anger made her aim accurate and deadly. There were five guards in all that came from the garage and the security shed. She did not waste ammunition, firing only one bullet at each man and watching in morbid satisfaction as each and every one fell with a bullet in the brain or the heart or the belly.

"The van is at the end of the drive," Mikhail said, "but it is a half mile lane."

Inna walked purposefully to the Jaguar sitting in the circle driveway and shot out the window. Reaching in, she unlocked the doors and popped off the panel beneath the steering wheel. By the time Mikhail had put Neal in the back seat, she had hot wired the car.

Mikhail leaned over the back seat as she drove madly out of the gravel drive and up the lane, "He is losing blood rapidly."

Inna gripped the steering wheel tightly, "_De'mor_. Where is Burke?"

"Waiting in the van."

Inna raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

Mikhail shrugged, "I may have persuaded him to remain there."

Neal gasped in a painful chuckle, "You tied...him up,...didn't you?"

Mikhail grunted in response, pressing his hands against the worst wound, "Quiet. Bleeding gunshot victims do not talk."

"Hold on," Inna ordered as she hit the brakes, stopping the Jag only inches from the rear of the van.

Mikhail moved Neal as gently as he could from the back seat, but Neal still gasped in pain, clutching at the back of Mikhail's shirt. Inna rounded the van and threw open the side door, only to stand in shock at the sight before her.

Peter was sitting behind the passenger seat, his hands and feet duct taped and a bruise swelling on his cheek bone. He glared at Inna.

"He hit me," Peter growled, "and then trussed me up like a Thanksgiving turkey."

"Something tells me you deserved it," Inna said. Peter's eyes widened as he saw her hands.

"Is that blood?" he demanded.

Mikhail appeared behind her and Peter swore loudly, calling for Neal and cursing Inna all in one breath. She moved to the back of the van, helping Mikhail lay Neal flat before searching for the first aid kit. Mikhail slammed the door shut and slid behind the wheel.

"What the hell-"

Peter was cut off as the bomb finally counted down to zero. The explosion rocked the van and was nearly deafening. Peter swore as he was knocked to the floor, unable to catch himself with his hands tied. He glared daggers at Inna.

"Untie me," he hissed.

Inna ignored him, finally finding the kit and tearing out gauze packets. Mikhail drove down the road, eyeing the side view mirrors.

"The house is destroyed," he told her, but even she could hear the disinterest.

It was startling to her how much their priorities had changed. For years, it had only ever been about the mission. Now, it was about saving a man's life, a man who she hadn't known for more than twenty-four hours, but couldn't imagine failing.

Neal craned his neck, blinking sluggishly at his friend, "Peter?"

Peter lifted desperate eyes to Inna, "Please, get this tape off me."

Inna quickly grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut part of the tape. Peter tore through the rest, not having the patience for her to cut it. He didn't bother with his legs, but scooted across the van to Neal's side.

"Jesus," he whispered, his hands hovering over his friend hesitantly.

"Press here," Inna ordered, pushing Peter's hands over the higher wound, "Do not let up on the pressure."

Peter obeyed, wincing as Neal bit back a groan.

"This is all your fault," Peter hissed, "You promised this wouldn't happen!"

"I know," Inna snapped, "Yell at me later. Focus on Neal."

Peter glared at her, and Inna suspected that if looks could kill she would have been rotting with the worms. Shooting her one more accusing glance, Peter turned to Neal, his expression instantly softening to worry.

"Easy, Neal," Peter whispered, "Try to calm your breathing."

"Hurts, Peter," Neal muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, "Feels like...fire."

"I know, buddy," Peter murmured, "but you're going to be fine."

Neal scoffed, hissing in pain, "You're a bad liar."

"Inna," Mikhail said from the front, "we need to vanish. The others-"

"Go to the hospital," Inna ordered without looking at him.

"Inna-"

"Go to the hospital!" Inna shouted.

"If we do that, we're done," Mikhail yelled back, "They will lock us up-"

Inna moved away from Neal to the driver's seat and pressed the gun against Mikhail's neck, "Pull over."

He stilled, watching her through the rear view mirror. Reluctantly, angrily, Mikhail obeyed and stopped the van on the side of the road. Inna reached around him and tossed open the door, ordering him out. She slid into his vacated seat, still holding the gun on him through the open window.

"You are making a mistake," he told her.

She pulled out her cell phone, tossing it to him without meeting his eyes, "Call the others. You follow the rest of the plan and you vanish."

Mikhail clenched his fist around the phone, "If you are doing this, you are no longer in charge. Why should we do what you say?"

Inna threw the van into drive and finally met Mikhail's eyes, "Goodbye, Mikhail."

She left him standing on the side of the road in a cloud of dust.

* * *

><p>"Neal? Neal, open your eyes! Come on, we're so close."<p>

Inna flew through the parking lot of the hospital, Peter's choked words fuelling her desperation. She glanced in the mirror and wished she hadn't. Blood coated the van floor like red paint. It covered Peter's hands, soaking the sleeves of his shirt. Neal lay lifelessly in the middle of the scene, far too pale and far too still. She couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

She slammed on the brakes outside the ER, leaving the engine running and the door hanging open on its hinges. She screamed for help in Russian and in English as she ran around the van, throwing open the door. Peter was pleading with Neal to wake up, unshed tears making his voice crack.

Nurses streamed out of the ER, surrounding the van and demanding answers to questions Inna barely heard. The noise of the world had turned to a drone. It rang in her ears, blocking out any intelligent sound or thought. All she could see was Neal's blood-soaked body lifted onto a stretcher and rolled away, his pale, lifeless hands dangling over the edge.

She and Peter were ushered into the hospital, but neither of them acknowledged the nurses asking about their own injuries. Whatever bruises and scrapes she had seemed meaningless. Though she probably looked like a car wreck victim, covered in blood from head to toe.

"I need to be with him," Peter argued with the head nurse, "He's my partner-"

"He's in the best hands," she assured him, "The two of you stay back here. Another doctor will be with you shortly."

And with that, she left Inna and Peter alone.

Peter whirled on her, "If he dies, I swear to God, I will do everything I can to-"

"To what?" she hissed, "Are you going to go on your own journey for revenge?"

Peter stilled, "I'm not letting you walk for this. What you did was murder, and if Neal dies, it will be on your hands."

Inna raised her crimson stained hands, spanning her fingers, "It already is."

Peter gulped and turned away, "Do you have any idea what kind of mess you've left us with? Aside from the fact that Neal might _die_, we helped criminals commit murder."

Inna brushed past him, "You were kidnapped by criminals and used against your will."

Peter glared at her, "You really think that's going to make a difference? You've probably ended my career."

Inna stopped at the door, "Somehow, I think your career will remain in tact, Agent Burke."

"Don't you walk out that door," Peter warned.

Inna stopped with her hand on the door knob. She cast a glance over her shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips, "Will you stop me, Agent Burke?"

They held each other's gaze, a thousand words and warnings and promises passing between them. And then Inna opened the door and simply walked away.

* * *

><p>She did not vanish. She merely hid in the shadows.<p>

The logical part of her brain said to leave. It wasn't safe for her to hang around, eavesdropping and watching, waiting for word on Neal. Peter had already contacted the FBI and they were milling around the hospital, swarming it like a horde of wasps. Statistically, she could only remain hidden for so long before they discovered her.

But she could not bring herself to leave.

So she'd cleaned herself up and borrowed scrubs and a face mask. She wondered the halls, pretending to be working, but really only biding her time. After two hours, the doctor finally came out of the operating room and gave Peter the good news.

She wasn't close enough to hear the words they exchanged, but she'd watched Peter enough to know what his body language meant. She saw his shoulders sigh, and his face ease. He uncrossed his arms and let them hang idly by his sides, his hands curled in slightly. He nodded along with what the doctor was saying, but Inna knew he wasn't really hearing the man. He was too busy praying, sending a thousand silent 'thank yous' heaven ward.

As the doctor continued to tell Peter the details of Neal's injuries, Inna moved through the hospital up to ICU and waited patiently outside Neal's room. Finally, the nurses finished settling him in and wandered back to their stations. Inna guessed she had only minutes before the doctor led Peter up there, but a few minutes would be enough.

Neal lay in the bed, shrouded in white scrubs and blankets, surrounded by a dozen machines. His arm was secured to his side with a blue sling and she could see his bandages peeking out from under his shirt. Swallowing convulsively to bite back the tears forming in her eyes, Inna stepped lightly across the room and brushed the dark curls from his forehead, wary of the large white bandage covering his temple.

A year ago, when she'd discovered Neal's connection to Tyen and decided to use him in her plot, she did not allow herself to consider the consequences. He was only a tool, a thing she could use to get what she wanted. She refused to see him as a person, unable to fathom what it would mean if something went wrong. If she only saw him as a pawn, then it wouldn't hurt as much.

But she had been so wrong. And despite her best efforts, he'd broken past her guarded walls without really meaning to, only being his normal self, protecting those he cared for and risking his life for an innocent girl he didn't know.

She would never be able to repay him for what he'd done. If she'd had it all over to do again, she would not have given up her quest for vengeance, but maybe, maybe she would have found another way. A way that didn't put him in harm's way and leave him fighting to live.

Blinking back tears, Inna leaned forward and tenderly kissed Neal's forehead, allowing a solitary tear to roll down her cheek to his mess of curls.

"_Blagodaryu tebya, moy drug_," she whispered.

She left the room just as Peter and the doctor arrived. By the time she reached the lobby, her tears had dried and her usual stony mask was in place. As she walked out of the hospital, she was startled to see Elizabeth walking in.

Disheveled and worried, Elizabeth rushed by her to the receptionist, demanding to know where her husband was. Inna smiled, content to know that everything had been put right in the world. Tyen was dead, Neal was alive, and the Burkes were safely together.

She walked down the street two blocks before turning into the alley. A nondescript SUV idled patiently, awaiting her arrival. Dropping the surgical mask on the ground, she climbed into the passenger seat and lit a cigarette.

"Is he alright?" Lanka asked from the back seat.

Inna nodded, glancing at her sister and offering a small smile. Serge sat next to her, clutching Lanka's hand. Sofia slept soundly between them.

"He will be alright," Inna answered, "They all will."

Mikhail grunted. Inna inhaled on her cigarette, watching the road as they drove away.

"Something the matter, Mikhail?" she asked.

"Do not ever," he growled, "pull a gun on me again."

She smirked at the window, "Did I anger you?"

He grunted again and she turned to him, impulsively reaching across the console to grab his hand. He tensed but did not pull away, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Maybe I can make it up to you," she whispered.

"How?"

She cast him a mysterious glance and watched as New York slowly faded behind them. And for the first time in years, Inna let the smile on her face reach her eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There is one more chapter left to wrap it all up. After all, we can't have Neal whump without a little bit of Neal comfort!**

**_Blagodaryu tebya, moy drug- Thank you, my friend_**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I've had a crap storm hit this past week and I haven't had the chance to work on this. But the good thing about crap storms is that they inspire a lot of anger and stress which make great bed fellows with writing. I hope you enjoy this wrap up chapter and thanks for sticking with me for as long as it took to finish this story!**

* * *

><p>Peter was not a happy camper.<p>

Over the last two days, he'd been interrogated and questioned like a common criminal. He'd been threatened with aiding and abetting charges, not to mention the suspension and demotion rumors that were floating around the office. But he knew it was just protocol and that no one who really mattered believed that he'd willingly helped the Russians. What bothered him was that he'd had to leave the hospital.

It'd been two days since Neal's surgery, and even though he'd opened his eyes several times, he'd never truly woken up yet, never long enough to string a coherent sentence together or smile and reassure Peter and Elizabeth that he was, in fact, alright.

Peter was determined to be there when Neal woke up for real. That was why this meeting was such an inconvenience. If it had been anyone other than Hughes to ask him to come in, Peter would have told them to stick it where the sun didn't shine. But he respected Hughes too much. And the older man knew Peter wanted to be by Neal's bedside. He wouldn't call him in for nothing.

Practically running, Peter breezed passed the desks and up the stairs to Hughes' office, irritated to find his boss on the phone. Impatiently, Peter shut the door and rocked on his heels, ignoring Hughes gesture to the chairs. He wasn't planning on being here long enough to get comfortable.

Finally, Hughes hung up the phone and quietly studied Peter, "How have you been?"

Peter bit back a frustrated sigh, "If that's all you wanted to know, you could have called me."

"I thought you'd want to hear this in person," Hughes said, rounding the desk and leaning against it, "It's been dropped."

Peter's eyebrows nearly hit his hair line, "Everything?"

Hughes nodded, "Even for Caffrey. No charges or disciplinary actions. You're both in the clear."

"Why?" Peter asked cautiously, "Don't get me wrong, I don't want to have to deal with any more of this, but OR couldn't have just decided to let it go that easily."

"They weren't going to," Hughes picked up a remote control from his desk, "but then this came in early this morning."

Peter turned as Hughes pressed a button, turning on the mounted flat screen television. A moment later, the black screen cleared, revealing Inna sitting in a rickety chair, a lit cigarette dangling between her fingers, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling.

_"This is a confession. I am making this statement to clear the names of Agent Peter Burke and Mr. Neal Caffrey,"_ she inhaled on her cigarette, smirking at the camera, _"You might want to get comfortable. This is a very long story."_

Hughes froze the screen, "She goes on to explain every detail of their plan and how she used you and Caffrey against your will to execute it. She even sent this."

Peter accepted the file Hughes handed him, thumbing through the stack of papers, "What is it?"

"A complete record of Dmitri Golovan's criminal activities. Everything we need to nail him, and from a quick glance, maybe a few of his contacts, too."

"Why would she do this?" Peter muttered, "I don't understand."

"You;re guess is as good as mine, but if anyone has a chance of understanding anything about this woman," Hughes said, clapping Peter on the shoulder, "it'd be you."

Peter slid the file onto the desk, shaking his head. At least it was one less thing to worry about, one more thing he could take off of Elizabeth's mind. But it bothered him that Inna would do this. Just when he thought he'd figured her out, she threw a curve ball at him.

"There's something at the end that she wanted you to see."

Hughes handed him the controller and quietly shut the dor behind him. After a moment of indecision, Peter fast forwarded to the last few frames and hit play.

Inna was leaning forward in her chair, her elbows resting on her knees and her cigarette nearly burnt down to the filter, her eyes never locking with the camera. Peter saw every hagard line in her face, every weary flicker in her dull eyes. But there was something different in her expression. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

_"I know it won't mean anything to you, but I'm going to say it anyway. I am sorry. Not for what I have done; I cannot tell you I wouldn't do it again if I had the chance, because that would be a lie. But I am sorry for involving you, for what happened to Neal. If I could change that, I would,"_ Inna tapped the ash off the cigarette, took one last drag, and tossed it to the floor, finally looking at the camera, _"It may repulse you, but I consider you and Neal and Elizabeth to be my friends. And I do not abandon friends."_

Then slowly, stunningly a smile split her face and reached her eyes, and Peter knew exactly what was different about Inna.

_"Take care, Agent Burke. We'll be watching you..."_

She was free.

_"Dasvidaniya."_

* * *

><p>The moment Neal woke up was the moment Peter walked into the hospital room and enveloped Elizabeth in his arms. As awareness came back to Neal through a drug-induced haze and the dull ache of an unidentifiable pain, Neal waited for his eyes to adjust and take in the room. He didn't know where he was or what had happened. There were bits and pieces of memories, fragments floating behind his eyes like the pieces of a puzzle, but mostly he just remembered pain and blood.<p>

But the moment his eyes landed on Peter holding Elizabeth so lovingly, so naturally, the unanswered questions didn't matter anymore.

It was reassuring and normal, something that he'd seen a hundred times, but it meant everything was right with the world. If Peter was hugging Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was smiling up at him, then nothing was irrevocably wrong. Nothing was broken that couldn't be fixed.

"Care to share the love?" Dear God, was that his voice? It sounded like he'd swallowed an hourglass of sand.

His rough words brought an abrupt end to the couple's embrace. They spun away from each other, Elizabeth falling to the chair beside his bed, grabbing his hand between both of hers, and Peter standing on the other side of the bed, brushing his hand across Neal's disheveled curls and resting it on his head.

"Neal, thank God," Elizabeth said through a wavering smile, her eyes suddenly wet, "We were so worried."

Neal squeezed her hand, "Couldn't tell. What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Peter asked.

Neal closed his eyes briefly, trying to call up the last full memory he had. What he saw was Inna, laying on the ground, one hand around her tender throat, the other reaching out for him as a look of horror and rage colored her face. And then he felt the pain, white-hot and blazing through his shoulder and chest. Then there was only blackness.

"Neal?" Peter asked nervously.

"I got shot," Neal muttered as he opened his eyes, "for real this time."

He felt Elizabeth tense and regretted his words. He didn't mean to upset her any more than she'd already been. Peter sighed above him.

"Yeah, you did. Nearly died. Took you two days to wake up."

"Two days?" Neal repeated weakly.

"You were being stubborn," Elizabeth smiled, "You just wanted to make us worry."

"You caught me," Neal smirked, forcing his heavy eyes to stay open, "What happened with Inna and the others?"

"They're gone, Neal," Peter said, "They got away."

Neal nodded, not saying anything, but secretly sighing in relief. He doubted Peter would understand, might even think Neal agreed with what the Russians had done. (He didn't as he abhored violence, though for some reason it seemed to love him.) What Peter didn't understand, and probably never really could, was what it meant to be haunted by demons and finally rid yourself of them; he didn't understand what it meant to fight for your freedom and actually win.

"You should rest," Peter said, pulling up a chair without removing his hand from Neal's head, "You've still got a lot of recovering to do."

"Hmm," Neal murmured, his eyes fluttering closed, "You don't have to stay. Should go home."

"Forget it," Peter said as Elizabeth tightened her hold on Neal's hands, silently agreeing with her husband, "We aren't going anywhere."

It occured to Neal as he finally gave in to sleep, that this scene was just as natural as Peter holding Elizabeth, the two people he cared for most on either side of him, refusing to leave him alone, for his comfort and their own. His body may be broken, but with his family surrounding him, it was nothing that couldn't be fixed.

* * *

><p>Four weeks later found Neal resting comfortably on the Burke's couch as Elizabeth made coffee in the kitchen. Peter was on his way home from the office after a rather boring day of mortgage fraud cases. Neal didn't envy him, but he was restless. Four weeks of healing meant his shoulder felt fine aside from the dull ache and the occasional stab of pain when he moved it wrong. But it was also at the dangerous phase, if you listened to his doctor. Because it didn't hurt badly, Neal would think he could use it more, but that would hinder its healing process. It was a vicious cycle. And it made Neal antsy.<p>

"Here you go," Elizabeth grinned, setting a mug in front of him and a plate of cookies.

"Thank you, but you don't need to spoil me," Neal said, blowing tentatively on his steaming mug.

"I'm allowed to," Elizabeth protested, sitting next to him and wrapping a throw pillow close to her chest, "I've barely seen you these last few weeks while you were recovering. It's my turn to coddle you."

Neal knew better than to argue with her. It was true that he'd become some what of a hermit while waiting for his injuries to heal. It was easier to do nothing than pretend he was fine. So he slept and ate and let June baby him, only seeing Peter and Elizabeth when they dropped by after work. Today was the first day he'd ventured outside, and he had to admit, it felt good to stretch his legs.

"How have you been?" Neal asked.

Elizabeth smirked, "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I've heard that question a hundred times the last thirty days," Neal grumbled, "It's my turn to ask. Besides, I may have been injured, but I'm not the only one that was kidnapped."

Elizabeth tightened her hold on her pillow, "It's hard. Sometimes, I'm afraid to open the door, but it's also easy, because I have Peter beside me."

"I'm sorry, Elle," Neal murmured.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked, grabbing Neal's hand in hers, "None of it was your fault."

"I know, but I feel like someone should say it."

Elizabeth smiled warmly at him, reaching for his hand. It was a small moment, one that spoke volumes about their friendship, and for that moment, Neal was able to pretend that this was an ordinary day, that all of the events that led them here hadn't actually happened. Part of him had been wondering over the last few weeks if Elizabeth and Peter had harbored some blame towards him. He was the reason they were kidnapped, after all. It may not have been him holding the gun to their heads, but he was the one the Russians wanted, and that was enough for him.

Elizabeth seemed to sense his thoughts because she scooted across the couch, carefully wrapping her arm around his waist and laying her head on his good shoulder, the pillow still pressed between them.

"If I'm being honest," she said quietly, "the worst thing about all of this is that I don't know how to feel towards them. The things they did, how they threatened us, I should hate them, fear them even."

"But you don't."

Elizabeth shook her head, "Not even a little bit. I'm worrying about them, actually. Isn't that messed up? They're criminals, murderers. It should be easy to hate them. Right and wrong, bad and good. It shouldn't be this confusing."

"It's never as easy as black and white," Neal said.

"I wish I knew what happened to them," Elizabeth mused, "If they made it out of America and back home. I worry about Sofia mostly. I hope she's happy."

At that moment, Peter arrived home, cursing and stumbling over Satchmo as the canine excitedly greeted his owner. With his jacket slung over one arm and a small package clutched in his other arm, Peter danced his way into the living room, muttering at his dog and nearly knocking over a lamp. Elizabeth tried to hide her giggles behind her hand, but didn't succeed before her husband noticed. Neal wasn't even trying to hide the broad grin on his face.

"It's not funny," Peter told them, though he was trying to hide his own smile.

"It's a little funny," Neal said as Elizabeth stood to kiss her husband hello. Satchmo sat beside them, panting and wagging his tail.

"How was work?" Elizabeth asked.

"Boring," Peter grunted as he flopped on the couch, "I am so sick of cold cases and mortgage fraud."

"Poor Peter," Neal smirked, "Never any rest for the weary."

"Says the hermit crab," Peter countered. He watched Elizabeth leave the room to let Satchmo out before turning his full attention to Neal, his investigator's eye scanning his friend for signs of discomfort, "How are you doing?"

Neal shrugged, trying to hide the wince the action brought, "Healing. Slowly."

Peter nodded, "Don't push yourself, Neal."

"Not planning on it. Believe me, I've been babying this thing."

"What the doctor say?"

"Another week of rest and I can return to work for light desk duty. After nearly a month, I'm ready for it. I feel like my head is going to explode from boredom."

Peter smirked, but Neal could tell his heart wasn't really in it. He could see his partner's eyes taking in his every movement, watching for obvious and not-so-obvious signs of pain. He didn't miss how Peter's eyes lingered on Neal's sling for a moment longer than they should have before moving to his face.

"I'm fine, Peter," Neal said softly, "Promise."

Peter grunted, something flickering over his face, "I know you are. It's just going to take me some time to get over it is all."

Neal settled back against the couch, sipping his coffee, "I don't remember much of it, but I'm guessing it was pretty bad."

"You have no idea," Peter said, "It doesn't help that it was twice in less than 48 hours."

Neal regarded him curiously, "What are you talking about?"

"Neal, you got shot."

"Yeah."

"Twice."

"Well, yeah, but the one bullet only did minimal damage-"

"I wasn't counting bullets."

"Oh," Neal said, confused. He watched Peter's face, saw how his mouth turned down at the corners and his eyes averted from his gaze, and realization suddenly hit him, "Oh. I'd forgotten about that."

"I haven't," Peter admitted, voice rough.

"Peter, it wasn't real. Compared to the rest of it, that was a cake walk."

"For you maybe, but you weren't standing on this side of things."

"Peter-"

"I thought you were dead, Neal. It all happened so quickly. I didn't even see her pull the gun and then you were on the ground, not moving, and blood all over your chest. I barely had time to react before they were shuffling me out the door."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Neal said, not sure what else to say.

Peter ran his hand down his face, "And that was only the first time. I don't know which one was worse: Seeing you die quickly, or watching you die slowly," he shook his head, "It's not something that I'm gonna get over any time soon, I'll tell you that much."

"I didn't even think about that," Neal admitted, "about how it would have affected you. I know Elizabeth is having a difficult time, but she has you and she didn't see...I'm sorry, Peter. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Peter scoffed, shaking his head ruefully, "Neal, stop apologizing. For God's sakes, you were the one that was shot and beat up and everything else. I can handle the bad memories and the occasional nightmares. What I can't handle is you actually dying. So don't do it."

Neal arched an eyebrow, "Peter, are you ordering me not to die?"

"Yes. Wait, no. You never follow orders. In fact, you out right defy them. So this is more of a friendly request. No dying."

"I second that," Elizabeth said as she entered the room, sitting next to Peter and handing him a mug of coffee.

Neal smiled, "I'll do my best."

"Peter, what's this?" Elizabeth asked, holding up the package he'd brought in with him.

"Found that on the door step," Peter answered, wincing as he burnt his tongue, "It doesn't have a return address on it and I don't remember ordering anything."

"Me neither," Elizabeth said, tearing the end off the white package. She turned it on the side, spilling its contents into her lap.

Three things fell out: A small envelope, a silver ring, and a CD. As Elizabeth examined the ring, Peter took the envelope, eyebrows rising as he read the front.

"It's for you," he said, handing it to Neal.

Wary, Neal accepted the envelope, gently opening the flap and removing the letter inside.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked as Neal unfolded the paper. His eyes went wide then softened and misted with tears.

"Neal?" Peter urged.

Swallowing hard, Neal turned the paper over so they could see. They're reactions were very similar to his own. On the sheet in his hand was a drawing of the three of them in a house centered in a poorly drawn America. Blue squiggles representing the ocean separated them from the other land mass, Russia. Under a second house was a drawing of a little girl with blonde pig tails and a wide smile.

"Sofia," Elizabeth whispered, holding the drawing almost reverently.

"She made it home then," Peter said with relief. He held up the disc, "Anybody up for a movie?"

Elizabeth moved to sit beside Neal, still smiling at the drawing as Peter turned on the T.V. and DVD player. He'd barely sat down next to Elizabeth before the movie started.

The screen showed an image of a living room, bright and open and clean. Centered in the frame with her hair curled and parted and held in pig tails was Sofia. She smiled widely, revealing a gap in her teeth from a missing tooth, and waved at the camera.

_"Hi, Neal. Hi, Elizabeth. Hi, Peter," _she grinned excitedly, _"My aunt Vivka is filming this for me. Inna says it's dangerous to call, so we came up with this instead. I wanted to show you where I'm living now. Plus, this way I can show you my room. But first I want you to meet my family."_

Sofia hopped off the couch, the camera following her as she made her way to the dining room where two boys, one five and the other ten, sat happily eating their breakfast. They waved at the camera as Sofia introduced them as her cousins, Misha and Sasha. Then she ran to the kitchen where her thirteen year old cousin called Anya was making eggs. She shyly waved at the camera, handing Sofia half of a banana.

_"They're my cousins," _Sofia said, _"only not really. Aunt Vivka and Uncle Ivan are going to adopt me so my last name will be theirs. So really, they're my brothers and sister. It's kind of weird, but really cool, too,"_ she smiled wide_, "I always wanted a big sister."_

Elizabeth smiled even as she sniffled through sudden tears. Peter took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he watched the little girl run down the hall to her bedroom.

_"I get my very own room now,"_ she nearly squealed in delight, _"It's the first time I can remember having my own stuff and my own bed. Look, I even got to choose the colors on the wall."_

The camera panned around the room, showing the lilac walls and white bedding and matching furniture. Sofia jumped on the bed, clutching a small stuffed animal to her chest, her pig tails bouncing around her face.

_"I get to go to school, too. I have to take special tests so they know I'm not stupid, but then I'm going to go to be in Sasha's grade and we'll have friends and parties and games. I'm so excited about it, but school doesn't start for a few more weeks. Until then, Sasha and Misha and Anya are my only friends,"_ Sofia stopped jumping, landing on her knees in the center of the bed. Her smile was genuine and wide and it brightened her eyes until they nearly sparkled, _"But that's okay. I love it here. I love my family."_

Elizabeth sniffled loudly and Neal handed her the box of tissues, swallowing against the large lump in his own throat. Sofia jumped off the bed and stood in front of the camera.

_"There's two more things I wanted to show you,"_ she said, moving to her dresser. She picked up a small framed picture and held it for the camera to see, _"This is my mom, Nadya. Aunt Vivka gave it to me because I was beginning to forget what she looks like. I wanted you to see it because you never got to see her. Aunt Vivka says I look just like her."_

The camera focused on the picture, showing a beautiful woman with dark eyes and long dark hair. There was a spark in her eyes, an amused glint that seemed to laugh at the world. She wasn't smiling, only smirking but even that was beautiful. And Sofia was right; she looked just like her.

Sofia put the picture back and pulled a necklace out from under her shirt. She held it out proudly, _"You probably don't recoginze it, Neal. It was kind of flat the last time you saw it. This is the coin you gave to me at the apartments. Remember? When you were showing me the magic trick? Mikhail did this for me. He pressed it down and made it into a ring. It's too big now, that's why I have to wear it on a chain, but when I grow up, it will fit and I'll wear it all the time. Look, he even engraved it."_

She pressed it closer to the camera but the image was blurred and the words were unreadable. Sofia pulled back, examining her ring closely.

_"It says 'Magic Trick',"_ she smiled, _"cause that's what you called me. I had him make you one, too. I hope you like it. That was everything I wanted to show you. I hope we can see each other again. I'm gonna miss you,"_ she waved with a sad smille, _"Dasvidaniya."_

"She's so happy," Elizabeth murmured as the screen went blank, "I've never seen her smile like that."

She handed Neal the ring. He smiled as he ran his thumb over the matching engraved words encircling the band. Licking his lips and wiping at the corners of his eyes, he slipped the ring easily over his finger, amazed that it fit perfectly. Elizabeth smiled at him through fresh tears.

Peter cleared his throat, grabbing the package and examining it. Neal and Elizabeth pretended not to notice the tears he was trying to hide from them. As Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes, Peter reached into the package.

"What is it, hon?" she asked.

"It's a card," Peter answered, "There's a poem written inside."

Before Neal could ask what it said, the screen changed from black back to the living room. This time instead of Sofia, there was a woman in her late thirties tentatively watching the camera. She sat with her legs crossed and her hands placed delicately in her lap. Her short blonde hair fell to her shoulders, perfectly done, not a strand out of place. She was pretty enough, though she looked older than her actual age, and hesitant, like she couldn't trust anyone, even herself.

_"You don't know me,"_ she said softly, her words slow, as if she was picking them out with extra care, _"but you have given me the greatest gift. Nadya was my younger sister and when she died...I wasn't sure how to go on. I felt like I was flailing in the middle of the ocean with no anchor, no preserver, nothing. I didn't know which way to turn. My sisters, they never faltered. They always knew what had to be done, but I wasn't strong enough to do it with them,"_ she smiled sadly, _"I gave them reasons that I thought were valid, but in the end, there was no denying what I had known from the beginning. I was a coward. What they have done, you may see it as a crime, but it took courage and strength, qualities that I do not possess. I know that it disgusts you, this thing that you were forced to take part in, but that is why we made this video. You had to see for yourself what you have done for Sofia, the life you have given her, the chance she otherwise would not have had."_

Vivka looked away, unable to continue as tears choked her. She swallowed them down, wiped away the ones that escaped, and looked straight at the camera. In her hand, she held up a small leather bound book, blackened at the edges, charred on the corners.

_"This was Nadya's, her book of favorite poems. It is all we have left of hers that survived the fires. Everything else has been turned to soot and ash. I know you can never understand why we did what we did, unless you go through it yourselves, and I pray that never happens. But I thought this would give you a better chance to understand us. One of Nadya's favorite poems was by a man named Mikhail Kuzmin. She said it described the four of us perfectly."_

Vivka held the book tightly in her hands, suddenly unable or unwilling to look into the camera lens, _"What we must live with, it is a heavy burden, and I am truly sorry that you had to be pulled in. If you find it hard to sleep at night, try to remember this: you did not help to kill a man,"_ she looked up, a small smile gracing her lips, _"you helped save the life of a child."_

The video clip ended and the trio sat in silence, waiting to see if there was more. When nothing else appeared on the screen, Peter quietly stood and turned off the T.V.

"Peter," Elizabeth asked, her voice hoarse from tears, "what does the poem say?"

Peter handed the card to her so she and Neal could read it, but he wasn't paying attention. He was holding the plastic case for the DVD in his hand. Turning it over in his hands, he saw a single word scrawled on the back in black sharpie.

"What about the others?" Neal asked, "Do you think we'll ever see them again?"

Putting the disc back in the case, Peter smirked, "Oh, I don't doubt it."

He put the case down on the coffee table, the single word staring boldly up at them.

_Dasvidaniya._

* * *

><p><em>We were four sisters, four sisters were we,<em>

_All four of us loved, but differently._

_One because father and mother said so,_

_Another because her lover had gold,_

_The third because he wrote poetry,_

_And I loved, because I loved, you see._

_We were four sisters, four sisters were we,_

_All four of us wished, but differently:_

_One to raise children and cook away,_

_The second to wear a new dress each day,_

_The third for the world to talk about her,_

_And I to be loved, and love my lover._

_-Mikhail Kuzmin_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The above poem is written by a Russian author and was actually the inspiration for this story. Crazy that such a sweet poem could inspire such mayhem and bloodshed, but, hey, I just do what the plot bunnies tell me. If your curious, this is how I saw each of the sisters relating to the poem:  
><strong>

**Vivka- Mother and father set up the marriage because that is what old times say women are supposed to do, same with the cooking and raising children, though Vivka never dreamed of anything other than having a family.**

**Lanka- In her youth, she was selfish and shallow, only wanting to be rich and famous, but it all changed when Nadya was murdered.**

**Inna- Before everything went down, she was in love with a sweet man and joined the military to make a name for herself, and show her family that she didn't have to live according to the old traditional values.**

**Nadya- She only wanted to love someone wholeheartedly, but in the end, it killed her.**

**This story is complete, but I'm working on a one-shot involving Neal's father and a conclusion to IN THE WIND's cliffhanger. Obviously it won't be what happens in the show as it will involve my Russians. When it's done, I'll upload it to this story.**

**Until then...Dasvidaniya.**


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